Torn for Two
by kendrat199
Summary: She will be his undoing, and he, hers. A Franklin/Tara story with all the other characters of Bon Temps mixed in. Every genre will be thrown in, so hold onto your hats : . Follows season 3 and will sometimes leave a set path due to my imagination.R
1. Beautifully Broken

**Author**: Kendra

**Rating**: Mostly T, if rating changes for the chapter, I will notify you

**Pairing**: Predominantly, Tara/Franklin, but others will be shown

**Characters:** the list grows for the chapter. This one is only Tara and Franklin

**Reviews**: Yes, please. I'll need feedback to tell me what I'm doing right/wrong since this is my first True blood fanfic

**A/N**: I haven't read the books so any spoilers are from the season 3 episodes, which will be the name of the chapters.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own TB

_Beautifully Broken_

Some ridiculous Johnny Cash song was playing on a beat-up and worn jukebox machine, and he heard men from different corners of the room shout about menial news going on in the last week: a man was shot and killed by some heroic detective, someone was getting married, someone was gonna get laid tonight, and some hick thought he'd eventually strike it rich with the lotto. Why the hell anyone would work here, let alone the woman in the picture he had found in Bill Compton's home, he had no clue. One of the files he had came by in Compton's drawer-obliviously kept within reach and not difficult to find to say the least- had said that a Ms. Sookie Stackhouse was currently employed here, and if he could just ask a few questions he could get out of this hell hole they call Bon Temps. Sitting at a stool, he then recognized the black waitress leaning against the countertop, staring at some imaginable point that he could not fathom. His eyes gazed to the right lapel searching for a name tag, only to gaze at an unhooked button at the top of her work blouse. "Busy night…" he said, his eyes sweeping back over the bar, searching for a blonde woman, or at least the owner of the bar that would be "privy" to give him information. "….you the only waitress?" his gaze returned to her, catching her eyes for the first time. What he saw in them drowned out the background noise.

"Actually, I'm the bartender and I ain't workin' tonigh'"

"Well, what are you doing here?"

"Honestly?" she fixed him with those eyes, eyes that held sorrow and anger, and there was something else, but he couldn't classify it. He tried to say a yes, but he could only incline his head and arch his eyebrow.

"Tryin' not to kill myself."

He wondered then-more than ever- what type of town this was, where the bartender was spilling their heart and soul to a random stranger, when the unspoken code was the reversal. How was he supposed to respond? How does anyone respond when someone talks about suicide and you don't even know them. Normally, and what he should have done was cut her off the diatribe she'd probably start, ask for a Trublood O-neg, and get out of there since he couldn't meet his objective tonight; but instead, he felt drawn and compelled to stay. "And how's that goin' for you?"

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

He thought about that statement. Here would be the perfect opportunity to stop the conversation. If he stopped here, he could go back to Russell tell him of some of his findings for today and find some poor sucker to drain, not to mention, he wouldn't have to hear her talk about her feelings and ask for pity, nor would he have to pretend to give her any. But she didn't continue talking, and the silence that he thought he should hope for was making him feel anxious. "That makes one of us." And he looked at her, he was waiting for the reviled expression to enter her eyes, to see repulsion, but what he saw was only a minor shock, as if she had seen vampires here before. Had Bill Compton often visited this place? His curiosity peaked further.

"You got any Trubloods left?"

She left the countertop to walk to the fridge and he allowed his eyes to run along the length of her body before moving back to her face as she turned away from the fridge to hold out a Trublood, "We've only got B positive and the microwave's busted." She set it down on the countertop and he had the inclination to reach for it and accidentally touch her fingers before they left its base, but he resisted.

"You a friend of Bill Compton's?"

He looked at the tiny little label of the slogan on Trublood "Friends don't let friends drink friends" and thought about that question before replying, "No." He thought, If she knew Bill by name, he must have been here frequently or she had a rapport with one Sookie Stackhouse. "You?"

She shook her head to signify a no, swallowed out of perhaps an autonomic response or out of fear at how close she was to a foreign vampire. And then, instead of talking anymore about Bill or asking him questions, or even talking about her attempts at surviving, she walked away, pretending that she had customers who needed her at the other end of the bar. He felt angry. Why the hell did he care two cents about people here unless their names were Sookie or Bill? Why did she have to talk about her problems? Why did she leave?

Some idiot put another quarter in the fucked up machine and it was now playing Johnny Cash's "Hurt" and he felt a migraine coming on. He put the cold trublood to his lips, feeling as the coagulated blood slowly inched towards his lips and tongue. _Vile. Too cold. Too wrong of a consistency. Too artificially synthetic_. He let his eyes go back to the no-name bartender/waitress and urged himself to leave. Even as she grabbed a Vodka bottle and walked to the bar, he sat on the stool, wondering if she was just taking a break.

As she was gone, he was able to actually think and reflect on the day's events. Not only was he able to gain a few files that Bill had in his newly acquired home, but he also found, in a little trap door that led to a sublevel basement, a treasure: A corpse, barely two days old. He'd known who had Bill and where he was, and he knew that that was well before this body showed up, which led him to suspect that there was someone or something else living in that home. He smiled, this mission would be over soon, and the sooner the better, he felt himself being distract-

_Craaaaash_

A broken bottle was shattering into pieces against gravel that could only be in the back of the bar. In less than a second he was there and he heard it.

"You're the one who fucked a killer, bitch."

Without thinking, he punched the guy, sending his body close enough for his face to collide with a pick up truck's window, and he heard the tiny crick of one nasal bone breaking. He came behind him, holding the man's hands behind his body. His head turned towards one of the men, who, unlike his friend, was still conscious, "Apologize to the lady…" his eyes traveled back to the woman, only to see her shocked. Was she shocked at what he had done or shocked at her own actions?

"Now you gone fuck a vampire too."

He heard it. The man moaning as her fist hit his jaw with such a force that he felt himself tightening his grip on the man's wrists to keep him from falling to the ground. "I said," he breathed, his eyes boring into hers as that emotion he can't name returned, "apologize to the lady." What the asshole said next surprised him. Had he no fear?

"Fuck you."

And then that's when the onslaught began. She kept punching, and as she punched, he saw her crumble, and as she drew blood, he felt his fangs protrude. She never seemed more beautiful, crying and destroying a man that hardly could defend himself.

He then knew, Bon Temps was going to be a HUGE distraction.

**To be continued...**


	2. It Hurts Me Too part 1

**Autho**r: Kendra

**Rating**: T-still-

**Characters**: Tara and Franklin, a little Terry

**Disclaimer**: I don't own True Blood. If I did, I'd make this a script.

**A/N**: Please give me feedback. Anything will help. Even if it's like, "the 39th sentence needs a semi-colon not a period". Tell me what worked and what didn't. Or what you loved or whatever. Also, I hated how they just skipped over the bar scene in the third episode and went straight to the Motel, because honestly. I don't think either Tara nor Franklin could teleport. This is my creative license and because episode 3 is so big –as far as these characters go and others- I'll be making the second chapter into two or three parts (this is part 1). Enjoy!

So I'm trying to capture Franklin's personality –luckily, he just got introduced, so I can do what I will in that regard- and Tara's (she's so hard to write!) so if you think I'm doing a horrible job, let me know. I have no problem doing rewrites. Thanks guys!

_Italics_=thoughts

**R&R**

**It Hurts Me Too (part 1)**

She could feel it. The skin between her knuckles tear as they collided against dislocated bone. The moans stopped and she felt something smooth, but liquid run along her fingers, in between the webs, down the knuckles, sliding down her palms. Blood. There was a small thought dedicated to wondering who it belonged to: her or this piece of shit Bon Temps would call a local resident. The more she hit him, the less she felt her knuckles ache. If anything, they became a cold numb, and it matched what she felt on the inside_. Why did she attack Sookie for what happened to Eggs?_ _Why didn't she attack some hick earlier? Why didn't Sookie tell her what she had showed Eggs_? _Maybe she could've talked to him sooner before this_…she felt the last inquisitive statement halter as she tried to contemplate an adjective to describe the situation; she had nothing. _Before "this" happened? Why did Lafayette have to take her to this place? _She'd probably be better with the preacher and her pseudo mother talking sermons. The guy, who Arlene served long enough for Tara to learn his first name-a one, mid-forty-something Randell, deserved what was coming to him. Did that include having a vampire sidekick hold him as she beat the living crap out of him, probably not, but hey, it beats paying some quack money to listen to her out-of-this-universe problems.

At first, as she started hitting the unlucky soul, she opened her eyes, liking to see him writhe in pain as the injury to his nose worsen, and be the first of the abrasions, black eye, and broken jaw that accompanied it, but as tears began to pour, it was easier to close them and to just keep hitting, to ignore just how close she was to the bar, to people seeing what she was doing. But this…whatever "this" was, was addicting. His flailing was half the excitement, and the sounds he made as he began to cough up blood was even better, and when he stopped doing both, and just lied there, there was this dread. _Shit_! She thought, her eyes widening as she realized where she was and what she was doing and what she did. She completely forgot about the vampire in front of her. Looking at him with shock and disgust aimed at herself, she noticed two very vivid fangs as he smiled and, thought incredulously: Great, _I'm about to get drained by some nesferatu-looking wannabe biker, right before I'm carried off to jail for killin' a man, and before I lose my job at Merlotte's for treating the customer in a very non-hospitable_ way. _Why the fuck was he smiling?_ And then, to add to the creepy factor, he laughed. Not a condescending laugh that she imagined Vampires cultivated, but a hearty, head almost tilted back laugh. In truth, it scared the shit out of her. It reminded her of Maryann, how she would randomly laugh mirthlessly and you felt compelled to join without knowing why or knowing the humor. She wondered if vampires could sense fear and if so, did she reek of it?

"I think he's dead," she said, looking at a bloody face that held a blank expression. Whereas before she was impressed with her quote, unquote "handiwork", she became terrified at the aspect of blanking out and not being in control And he laughed again! The same husky, deep laugh of his. The fear was slowly altering into slight annoyance. She didn't like jokes she didn't get and she didn't like being the brunt of them. _Was he making fun of her or her situation?_ Either way, it wasn't funny.

"He isn't dead," the mysterious man in all leather black and cowboy boots said.

"How would you know?" she retorted, staring at the two bodies on the ground, one definitely conscious and one reminding her of a vegetable left in the sun on a hot day in Louisianna.

The smile he still wore turned into a thin line, as he said humorlessly, "Trust me, I would know."

And there was silence between the two of them, or rather the four of the people present in the back of Merlotte's. Lafayette would be getting a break in an hour, and he'd wonder where the fuck she ran off to, and if she even told him of what she'd done, and who she was talking to, he'd flip. She mentally bit her lower lip fearing that lecture much more than the man in front of her. Unfortunately or perhaps fortunately, to distract her from her thoughts, he spoke.

"Although neither are dead, this doesn't look beneficial to your resume, we should leave."

"Excuse me. Did you just say "we"? Do I look stupid to you," her eyes narrowed, demanding that he answer, and when he didn't she stated," That wasn't a rhetorical question."

That smile was back, a smile that was beginning to unnerve her. And his eyes-reminding her of an blue ice- just stared, never blinking nor changing their focus as he said, "you're anything but that." There was a pause in his voice before he continued, "However, who else will look after you if you run into trouble getting back home?"

She gave him an incredulous look before looking at the two still bodies, "I think I can handle myself considering the circumstances."

He seemed to be thinking, his arms crossing over his body in mock reflection. "But who's there to hold them for you?"

She felt a tiny stir within her, almost trying to build up into a laugh, but she eradicated it, leaving a scoff in its wake.

"Look, I appreci-" And then she heard it. The ramblings of Terry Bellefleur as he was trying to carry away too many trash bags.

* * *

"Number 4, I think reading to children is the greatest job a man can do..and I've got lots of stories, but I can edit most of them so they end happily…and….

* * *

Sooner or later, he'd walk to the dumpster, dump the scraps, turn around and see Tara and two men on the ground and then it'd be hell…again. She stared at the backdoor, waiting for it to swing open and waiting to explode when he innocently asked her what happened. What was she to say? She felt a slightly cooler breeze against her cheek and as she turned away, her breathe caught in her chest, seeing, him, whoever the hell he was, merely two inches before her and four inches taller.

"So shall we leave?"

"What about the bodies?" She managed to choke out, swallowing an imaginary lump in her throat by being near something or someone so unpredictable.

"I'll take care of them."

"You're going to kill them and drink their blood," she replied, eyes wider.

He seemed offended and that smile that changed back and forth from thin line to an almost Cheshire grin became a grimace. "I choose carefully who I drink from….I don't just choose anyone." And as he looked at her , she felt confused and inclined to ask.

"Then why were your fangs out if you weren't out to drink blood? What other times are there when those …." She arched an eyebrow, looking at his mouth that minutes before had canine fangs out for show, "things are….on display?"

He gave her the smirk again, and she felt even more confused and more angry at not getting a straight answer. Let it be said that Tara Mae Thornton didn't like games or having to do the reach around.

"I won't harm them more than they already have been. I'll just….move them. I'll be back, wait for me." And as he picked up the two men like they were fucking feathers and sped off, and as she heard Terry start to open the screen door only to stop in accordance to Arlene's "Wait", she thought it'd be the perfect opportunity to run like hell back into Merlottes, talk to as many people as possible, and hope to God that he didn't come back in the bar and drag her off to some grave that he was probably digging right now just for her. However, she waited. And she didn't know why, and she did not want to analyze the 'after'.

**To be continued…. **

.


	3. It Hurts Me Too part 2

**Rating**: Light M/heavy T :o. I'm warning you. And yes, I'm guessing since you guys watch True blood, you can handle this. Plus in comparison, it's rather fluff.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own True Blood, if I did, I'd probably have this show last like 5 hours instead of one (how does Ball do it?).

**Characters**: Tara, Franklin, and a little Terry.

**A/N**:Before I talk about this chapter, some reviewer had said that they didn't understand the little break in the story where Terry says, "number 4". I was going off the list he had said in the third episode –It Hurts Me Too- where he names three things prior of why he can be trusted with Arlene's kids. I was taking creative license and added more to the list :D**. **

**Related to this chapter**: I didn't mean to make the motel scene to be so long, but when a muse comes, it comes and you accept its gifts. So, yeah criticism/feedback is loved and welcomed when it's constructive! If anyone wants to listen to music while reading this or wants to see a wonderful vid of Tara/Franklin (or generally, Tara herself) I suggest:

a) (just the song) Search for Massive Attack's 'Psyche" remix

b) ()/watch?v=oXNz-5qJ8tg (song plus fan video) or search for "Tara's story"

**Beta**: BooksCatsEtc! She is so fantastic and has helped tremendously with the editing of this chapter!

*****Enjoy this update on a sunday, hours before the next episode-9 crimes- (It Hurts Me too will have one more part till the addition of 9 crimes to the list of chapters)**

**It Hurts Me Too, part 2**

* * *

"Oh no…" Terry threw away the bags that were beginning to tear at the bottom, leaking food waste into the dumpster. He had heard a commotion, but as he was about to push open the back screen door Arlene had called him, asking him to tell her the rest of his list and that she had something to tell him when they both got off of work. He could've sworn he had heard Tara and others out here….but then again how many times has he thought he heard something that others didn't? Quiet. It was so quiet with him standing under a street lamp, looking at the empty and unmarked parking lot void of people and a one way street. He looked down to scan the ground as he had been trained to do in the army, looking for anything to give away a sign rather than headpins of mines. He saw an empty broken whiskey bottle, glass shards spread haphazardly by low-tread tires and shards that seemed kicked further from the rest, and others that were stepped on and broken into dust-like pieces under the weight. Tara was gone. He swallowed. "Shit." He knew the verge of going off on the deep end, he had seen it in many a soldier, and she had that look when she saw Eggs' body, but less of it when she returned to Merlotte's. Should he notify Lafayette, who'd be furious at her leaving, and worry with him? Or should he say that Tara is fine, make up a lie about knowing where she was, and hope that everything was truly fine. He had one hour till Lafayette had his break and he had to think of something and said something –whether the truth or reformed lie- had to be thought up before he bumped into Arlene again, because seeing her would force him to tell her every strain of truth. So, in actuality, he had only a few minutes to come up with something.

* * *

"I should walk you home." He was close. Too close. It felt like walking down a dark alleyway not seeing the end of it, not seeing behind yourself, but when looking down, there'd be a shadow alongside you, and it wasn't your own. She swallowed. Looking at his shadow beside her own, made it seem all the more daunting, the feel of the cold air against her neck like breaths against her skin didn't help either. She should run now. She should scream, even if she wasn't much for playing damsel in distress with high pitched wails for a rescue, how long would her fists help her if he got bored with her struggle? If she didn't know he was a vampire, she'd say she could take him, but she saw what he did back there and she could only imagine what he could do. So why couldn't she run? Her footsteps kept trudging along, grinding the pebbles of gravel, making the only sound around her. Why the fuck was he so close. Why did he want to walk her to her home? Why didn't he just drain her, leave her, and go on his merry-fucking way. Why did she wait for him at the bar, a place that had people, _witnesses_.

She couldn't tell if she was leading him or if she was following, there'd be times when she felt like he was behind her, but every time she glanced to see their footsteps, she noticed that hers were slightly behind. Her mind thought of worst-case scenarios, of her blood-drained body being tossed into the bayou to be left to 'loosen' for the gators. She swallowed. What on earth would make her take him to her house….where her mother rested, where else would she go?

She stopped, her eyes looking ahead, still glancing for someone, whether a driver in their car, or a drunk trying to figure out where they lived. She bit her lower lip, thinking of what to say, what to do, to get this vampire to go away. And he stopped behind her, looking at her with an eyebrow arched, in mockery or perhaps curiosity. She couldn't figure it out and the confusion grew along with her anger. The confusion was at his unpredictability, and that unpredictability scared her. Not being in control of a situation was the scariest thing she could think of.

"I'd like to thank you for what you did back there, which doesn't come often from me. And I appreciate you wanting to walk me home" –_and drain me in my fucking house_, she thought- "but, I think I got it from here." She began to walk away, her eyes not once locking onto his for fear that he'd read her, read the anxiety behind them. By the time she blinked, he was in front of her, staring at her, daring her to look away.

"I don't think that's what you want." His voice almost got drowned out by the sound of locusts in the trees, buzzing like active power lines. But if she didn't hear what he had said, she made no effort of telling. And his smirk returned, the grin that was somewhat cocky, and somewhat unfortelling.

"The fuck I don't. I appreciate your offer of wanting to suck me dry but-" and here she paused, her lips almost forming the shape for the next added word, but hearing him laugh, cold, chilling, but amused stopped her. Dead. He interrupted.

"If I wanted your blood, I would've taken it already." He stepped closer, and she stood her ground. She might've not known vampires as well as Sookie, but she had an inkling that a chase would only please them more.

"Well, what do you want then," she said, vexed. Eyes narrowing. Did he think she was some plaything to toy with, to amuse him till dawn?

He stood over her. His eyes held some sort of emotion that she thought she had seen in someone else, but couldn't name. His pointer finger ran along her jaw, causing her to exhale at the coldness of his touch and make her wonder if she felt like lava to him. It traced a journey from her ear to her chin, and he tilted it, to make her look into his eyes once more. She couldn't breathe at the touch. And she wondered if it was the fact that he was so close, if it was because he was so cold, if he was a vampire, all three, or something else. And as he bent and his lower lip barely touched the rim of her upper one, he whispered against her lips, "I think you know."

Time halted. The locusts that had frenzied wings, stopped their buzzing, and the faint music she had heard down the road drew to a deathly silence. He didn't exactly kiss her. His lip still making a sensation that made her light-headed and all the more confused. And when she thought she had some bearing on identifying said sensation, his lip was replaced with his tongue, as if trying to innocently make entrance and connect with her own. It was then that she wondered what vampires tasted like. If all they drank was blood, wouldn't they taste like blood?

When she was 8, after being hit by an empty bottle by her drunken mother, blamed for drinking the alcohol that Lettie Mae had forgotten that she had slammed, her split lip gave her the chance to taste blood for the first time. It tasted…metallic. It was like licking the inside of a copper and iron infused pot, but of a liquid that was warm and deep against her tongue. Now, she would liken it to copper pennies mixed with sangria. But as she gave into his kiss, felt her lips respond to his, in a kiss at first light, she didn't taste blood or a faint hint of it, but It tasted…and she was never the poetic one or the one with depth…but it tasted like rain and fresh earth -sweet, damp, and fresh,

Her mind screamed many things. Some valid-_Eggs just died; Lafayette will be fucking pissed; you don't know this guy; go home and pray-_but when one of his hands grasped her neck, attempting to pull her closer, to let his tongue explore her mouth more fully, the only thing she thought vividly was: _Release. _

She managed to break away, hearing sharp breathes that might have been her own or might have been his or might have been both of theirs; she felt the coolness of his forehead resting against hers, and managed to murmur, "Motel. Now"

She would never understand vampires' abilities –numerous and mysterious as they were._ How did they both get there so fast, had he grabbed her hand and her feet merely went on their own volition, barely touching the pavement? Or had he carried her? _She remembered saying the words, remembered his lips prior-the taste and feel of them, but when she blinked, she somehow managed to get from the middle of the road to being outside of one cheap motel labeled 'Ricky's Motel' with the lighted marquee on a fritz and an unilluminated "M". It wasn't romantic, but then again she wasn't looking for romance.

The man at the register looked pissed, but she guessed she'd be too if she had to work those crappy ass hours, hearing all sorts of noise, and being forced to say pleasantries that he for sure didn't mean. He glanced at them, not even saying the 'Welcome to So's-in-So's Motel" that littered Bon Temps and other Louisianan cities. Actually what she saw in his glance- not a glance, but a glare-was hatred concealed behind dark brown irises. Was he sneering at the thought of the idea of interracial intercourse or was he seeing fangs that the man had chosen not to hide, and the thought of a vampire and a human woman, a fangbanger, repulsed him. She didn't have to say anything, however, as a key was tossed-no, thrown- at her, and she saw the no-name stranger toss money at the man, right before grabbing her hand and practically rushing towards room 122.

_There's still time to leave; To get the hell out of here_, that little voice returned, and she closed her eyes as if that action could shush it. She knew she shouldn't be here…with a stranger, let alone a dangerous one, but everything she knew before this went to hell, so why couldn't she let go to the urges when they naturally came and weren't driven upon her by Maryann. The door was pushed unceremoniously open and as soon as it closed, she felt her body being slammed against the hard wooden surface. Somehow her hands managed to be pinned above her, and she felt motionless, as he leaned closer, mischief in his ice blue eyes, and raw heat. She shuddered and had to breathe in shallow breathes as she felt his breathe-cool- against the lobe of her ear, and forced her eyes closed as his lips touched the rim of said ear to murmur, "You should tell me to stop." She couldn't answer. It felt like her tongue was in some horrid knot that could not unwind itself and only seemed to twist into a more elaborate shape when she could feel his smile. How could she tell him no, tell him to stop, how could she not to?

She had an ounce of control, even if said control was not speaking. She wanted this….urge, wanted him, but couldn't…wouldn't let it get the best of her. She might be doing a bad thing right now…might actually relish at the thought of what would come afterwards…of seeing what the 'hype' was all about with vampire sex after hearing light remarks from Sookie about her lovemaking with Bill, but she wouldn't give him all control.

His tongue trailed along her neck, down to her collarbone to run along the ridge, only to dip down in between the crevice of her breasts. It felt colder in this room and part of her was convinced it was the goose bumps he caused when his tongue touched her scorched flesh, and the other part believed that it was the lack of clothing now laying in heaps about the floor. She didn't even realize when she lost her clothes. Her head would involuntary tilt back as a gasp escaped her lips and when she forced herself to open her eyes, she noticed the shirt-buttons barely connected to the shirt front-, the unclasped bra, his shirt, his jeans, and her jeans unzipped, being tugged. But it was only when she felt cool sheets meet her naked back she realized she was no longer bound to them.

He was above her, his forearms letting him have distance from her and he just stared at her. The smile was gone and in his eyes, besides lust, she saw something else. And, no matter what she did to think of attempting to turn away, she couldn't. The goosebumps he caused when his tongue met her flesh were singed and turned ablaze as sensitive fingertips explored, probed, and begged to conquer while roaming. Her heart beat quickened, pulsating like some voo doo –inspired drumming and she swore she heard the vibrations and she wondered if he could hear it too, but much more intensely. Her hands reached for him hungrily, not careful or sanctimonious, but desperate, and eagerly searching. The room previously thought of as being colder, seemed like a sauna. She arched against him, the back of her head pressing firmly against a white pillow as she could feel his fangs graze across the skin, sharp like little needles. If she was wrong about what vampires taste like, would she be wrong about what it would feel like to have those 'things' press against her, to see him drink from her?

She felt his length press against her as their legs entwined, feeling the welcome weight of his body as it pressed down on hers. She felt her fingers slide through his hair, only to fist the locks as another wave hit her. Now, she could hear it, his own gasp of need, masking her own. She slid further beneath him, clamping his hips between her legs, and the loud sounds of the locusts outside were incomparable to the ones being made now. She had no idea how long this intricate position lasted, till they tried another, and another, but she felt the little voice that used to be her conscience twist and mold and misshape to the point where it wanted a different release. Whereas earlier, whenever earlier was, she was afraid to feel those sharp prongs against her skin, now that voice was hoping for it, no, _**begging **_for it. Sookie had said that when Bill had bit her, it felt amazing, and the way she said it, the way Sookie looked off at some unfixed point in reflection, breathing in, and saying it slowly as if to savor the phrase, made her wish that she could feel that feeling, taste it. Just when she couldn't handle it any more, that little voice pressing upon her skull, pressing against her being, she turned her head exposing her neck to him. And she said in a faint whisper, hoping he'd hear, "Go ahead bite me." And she saw _them_, saw them so close above her neck, her body voluntarily arched in suspense. Her voice sounded more rushed, but more audible when she said halfway into the pillow, "Fucking do it!"

* * *

He was given permission. The very first time that he was actually told that he could bite someone. He felt conflicted. Part of him liked the idea of having her run, of having to actually restrain her until he tasted her, tasted her blood and could truly feel her, and the other part, the part that he couldn't identify, found it highly erotic thinking of this woman, giving herself freely to him, not knowing what he would do, but knowing what he could do and being powerless to stop him. It almost hurt, having his fangs out and so close to something so vital and essential. He could practically hear her heart beat and wondered what would happen if he could feel it. But the way that she turned her head, the way that she closed her eyes, and the way that her fingernails ran across his skin told him that if he bit her, if he tasted her, he would lose control. His fangs retracted and he looked at her, looked as her face contorted into confusion as she said, "What the hell, I said you could bite me."

"No," was all he needed to say, what he should have only had to say

"Why not?" Her confusion only grew, and he could've told her the entire truth, but a part seemed better.

"Because you want me to" His hand began to explore under the loose and halfway covering sheets, searching for areas deemed 'favorites' already. His eyes fixed on the window sill, looking at the moonlight illuminating hidden parts of the room. Satiated. "You lost yourself to the void. I'd claim it was a gift but actually it's quite common to most vampires." He smiled. And he wondered what the source of it was. It wasn't cynical nor demeaning, but something more, and he glanced down to see her smile. He felt himself breathing faster, he had to remind himself that the sun would come up soon. She broke his reverie

"I never do this"

"What, one night stands? Cheap Motels? Vampires? " he paused. He waited. It seemed rather long. He didn't like the thought of one night stands being plentiful, cheap motels were unbefitting, and the thought of her having an attraction to him because she was a ….what was the term? Fangbanger, would get old. Fast. He felt himself breathe with a surprising relief when she said:

"No, none of it, No offense.. .actually the cheap motels, yes. But only once. Come to think of it, why do you need a motel room. Don't ya'll sleep in the ground." And that reiterated all three of her answers without blatantly stating them.

"it's a nice place to shower, to shave, to ravage you." _An hour and a half till sunrise…_

"Fuck, did this all happen because we beat the crap out of a couple of rednecks tonight?"

"You did. You would've killed them if I hadn't stopped you." His lazy hold on her became almost nonexistent as she began to distance herself.

"I wanted to," and there was despair and anger in her voice and he had to ask, even if he shouldn't have cared and even if he kept telling himself that he didn't.

"Where does all that come from?" Could he glamour her into telling him if she resisted? Did he want so much control that he could make her say or do anything without any choice on her part?

"Nope…you don't want to get into that"

"I think I'm entitled to a little curiosity. I hardly know a thing about you. I don't know if you have a husband or a boyfriend…" And that's when she pushed herself up, away from him, moving his arm that was holding her safely to his side. She felt weak then and he wondered if she could physically mask or mimic the disintegration of the strength she had hours earlier.

By the time he got over his confusion or he hid it, she was already frantically grabbing clothes, forgetting to put on the bra and throwing her shirt over, and buttoning her jeans as if she was being timed. She reached into one pocket, feeling the mound that was a cell phone. The lit up screen told him it was text messages or voice mail. The _fuck_ she exclaimed meant that it was either her boyfriend/husband or someone else. He wanted to ask who it was, what it said, he felt himself being curious. And curiosity unrelated to his objective in Bon Temps was deadly.

"This was great and all ..okay mindblowin' but lets not make it into something that it wasn't. Just take me home."

"Can I at least ask you your name?

"Even better, I'll walk".

He was amused at this situation. This wasn't his first time at a cheap motel with a human woman, although the ending results were different-very different-, he was definitely used to being the one leaving, uttering something useless and feign, being on the receiving end was….unusual and unpredicted. "My name is Franklin…." Maybe if he started first, she would feel inclined to tell him hers. He shouldn't have cared about her name, but not knowing it was making him feel…..something.

"Please give it up, knowing my name isn't gonna make you feel any less dirty or me any less. Just" she breathed, opening the door and looking outside before turning towards him and smiling…for the first time in a sincere way, " Thanks Franklin…"

And she was gone. He laid there for however long, under the sheets, not bothering to put on clothes wondering what happened, what her name was, and when he would see her again, because there wasn't a doubt on if, but a when.

**To be continued…**

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	4. 9 crimes

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I don't own True Blood, if I did, I'd give myself a guest spot and be all up on Franklin, while also sowing a wedding dress for Tara.

**A/N**:This is a huge, colossal chapter, it combines the third part of "It Hurts Me Too" and 9 crimes. It's 4x /5x times longer than the first and second, almost 2x times longer than the 3rd chapter. Please, if you even get halfway through the story, review! Hateful reviews (with constructive* criticism) or loving reviews make me excited and eager to continue the fic- much more than 'story alerts' or adding the story to your favorites. Thanks.

Songs that got me in the mood for this chapter and for Tara/Franklin: Fever by Peggy Lee, Circus Paradise and Psyche by Massive Attack, Big Bad Handsome Man by Imelda May, 311's Cover of "Love Song"

Next Chapter will be of my own creation and it's definitely **NOT** following episode 5: Trouble (except for a few minor details). As amazing as that episode was (seriously, one of my favorites), I want to make this story new.

**Beta**: BooksCatsEtc! She is so fantastic and has helped tremendously with the editing of this chapter! Two fanfics that she has authored are listed below. If you can't get enough Franklin/Tara and want something else to read, I encourage/suggest you read the drabble (first link) or if you want something sexy and steamy ( the second link) all by my beta :)

.net/s/6118018/1/Five_Reasons_interrupted

.net/s/6133503/1/From_Parking_Lot_to_Cheap_Motel

Once Again thank you for reading this! : ) love yah! *Mwah!*

* * *

**"9 Crimes"**

"Is that all you found, a corpse in Compton's house and a couple of pictures of a waitress? Really, I'm starting to find you less intriguing, and that can be deadly."

He found himself growing agitated by the mere idea of holding his tongue until Russell or the King or Mr. Edgington or whatever he wanted his label to be, stopped talking. Would he have to encounter this little bump in the road of business every time he came across a distraction-albeit one that he could perfectly control? He could always hang up on the man, blaming the "loss of signal" on the woods that he was now standing in the middle of. Finally Russell had stopped, which meant that it was his turn to speak. "That waitress is Sookie Stackhouse and amongst the pictures there's a genealogy of her family, and files dating back to when she was a child. She is immensely special to Bill Compton for some reason, and if you're wanting him to pledge fealty to you then she is the pawn to use."

"And what will you do now?" the tone over the cell phone suggested that Russell was contemplative, that what he had told Russell was good, but clearly not good enough.

"I'm going back to the Compton house, question whoever else lives there and work from there." Did he really have to explain his methods? Was it any way possible to be left alone to do what he did best?

"I have this feeling, Franklin that you're getting distracted in Bon Temps, and that isn't good for me, which means it is and will be, extremely unpleasant for you. I hired you because you are the best and you work rather quickly, however, your diddling is irking me. Find out more soon or dismiss our agreement."

The hum drum of a disconnected line told him that Russell had hung up on him, not even bothering to say a "see ya later" or "have a good day," comments that friends would say to each other. Friends. He would describe Russell as that type of blighter who would knowingly be condescending someone, while calling the other bitter sweetly 'friend' to gain something for himself. The more he thought about the situation, the more he became annoyed. He gritted his teeth together, as he closed the flip phone and placed it back in his right pants' pocket.

_What a horrible cut._

"My, you're a gusher." He looked at his leather jacket, now having a very impressive blood spatter coating its surface. He was expecting this guy to have been completely drained, and the copious amounts of blood that he did have suggested an amateur killed him. From the look of the puncture wounds in his neck, an amateur vampire. He felt his lips tug ever so slightly. "A baby vamp. When's the last time I've seen one of those…." Thinking about the situation he heard himself talking aloud to no one in particular, "Bill you're such the naughty maker." Rifling through the man's belongings he found a brown leather wallet. _No Cash_, but a worthless picture of the man smiling with his blond-haired boy. "Now why," his fingers grasped ahold the locks of the man's head, pulling slightly to free the connection of tendons from the head and neck, and hearing a '_snchk_' as he did. "Now why" he said, his eyes looking into a one "Jacob Miller's" dead ones "would a baby vampire want such an innocent, family man like yourself, dead?" Stuffing the head in a small bag, he proceeded to push the decapitated body towards a waterway. If the wild animals wouldn't eat it- and he was sure they wouldn't by the stench of the badly decomposed body- he was sure the maggots and other larvae would. He could care less, however, if anyone found the body.

He made a mental checklist of the activities he needed to do and he had to force himself not to add a trip to Merlotte's to that list. He could find Trublood at any grocery or liquor store, and this small town was littered with them, and if he wanted something more natural, something fresher, he could go to any other bar and find any other drunk no-name that no one would remember seeing, that no one would miss. That woman, with her problems, her sad story, her siren-like ways was trouble and he honestly couldn't comprehend what it was that made them-her- a magnet to him. Why should he feel this 'attraction' to a human woman? He had encountered many other women who were passionately angry and who were survivors, what made this one so different? He bent down at the bank, watching as the body was slowly being pushed by the water; the rocks snagging onto the already jagged cut line of neck flesh and collecting the loose insides that leaked from the wound. The outlines of fish could be seen following the body or moving out of its way, and he wondered, would they feast on it, or abandon it to the elements?

The fascination died as he started walking in the direction of the Compton's mansion. He could've run at the equivalent of a vampire's speed or he could've drove in his classic red and black Pontiac GTO, but walking would let him contemplate, why after he had possessed her body- he smiled at that nostalgic moment- possessed it several times, in fact, did he yearn to possess her mind, her soul? Should he ask Russell about this…feeling? He couldn't think of anyone else that he'd be able to converse with about this dilemma. He weighed the pros and cons while standing on the porch of the Compton house, hand in mid air, hovering against the door bell. The _cons_: he'd risk notifying Russell that he was surely distracted, that he was incapable of doing and/or completing his objective, and lastly and more importantly, he'd risk the cash. The _pros_: Russell might understand, maybe he had felt the same way about Talbot-he had to stop his train of thought to stem the flow of hatred that arose at the thought of that…"man"- maybe he could give him advice or perhaps tell him what this 'feeling' and insatiable need was. He rang the doorbell, placing the bag besides his feet and hoping that whatever lived in that house would be there.

He could hear it, the exclamations of a woman, a pissed woman at that. He smiled inwardly. When she opened the door he was surprised by her appearance. She was so young, this vampire girl, with her stark red hair, porcelain skin, and blue eyes. She couldn't be more than seventeen and, in the pit of his stomach, he felt something like pity at the thought of someone so young being turned, to remain that way till she was staked. "Good evening, Miss. Are you all alone tonight…" he let his eyes move past her and the slightly ajar doorway to scan the inside of the barren house. Nothing about the house was changed since the last time he visited it, has she even seen what was inside those drawers?

"Listen Buddy, I don't know what you have in mind but you're messing with the wrong girl!"And then, funnily enough, she bared her fangs, very small in comparison to his and marking her as the baby vampire that he so rightly labeled her. He had to control his laughter, looking at her trying to scare him. He could toy with her, pretend like he wasn't afraid, was just some human who had 'car troubles' and try and play nice in order to get something out of her, but that'd take too long. Baring his own fangs and watching her eyes widened, he moved past her, looking around the house just in case there were others living there. "Hey, you're not supposed to enter a home unless you're invited!"

"Uh, that would be human homes and," he looked around seeing no other sign of others residing there, "last time I checked the last human owner of this house died about a year ago so..."

She moaned. "Why doesn't anyone tell me these things?"

And that thought... that thought of Bill being a horrible Maker returned. What exactly did he teach this girl? She killed a man, probably on accident, didn't know how to dispose of the body –considering that by the deterioration of it, it was kept under that trap door for over 2 days-, and didn't know that Vampires could enter other vampire-owned homes. Did she even know how to glamour someone?

"Come Miss Hamby, sit down. Let's have a chat."

"How do you know my name?"

He found his way to a couch that didn't' look moth-eaten, and sat down. Placing the bag beside him. He looked up at her still standing. "It's my job. Let's just say, I find things..." he glanced at the armchair adjacent to the couch and said, "please, sit." She sat down across from him, looking at him as if she was intrigued by older vampires coming to visit , as if they'd willingly give out vampire survival tricks. "What sort of things?" She seemed weary

"Anything that needs finding. Do you have anything to hide?"

He began to tap the bag, hoping that she would just be honest and tell him about the dead body so he could collect information from her, and be on his way to find other suspects. But, no, she was being coy.

"Bill Compton, he's been gone for a few days, I keep callin' him on his cell, but he won't pick up. I can't find him".

He felt himself growing agitated. He'll give her another chance, maybe she really didn't have anything to do with the dead body. "Yes, him, but do you know anyone else that's gone missing lately?" he looked at her, watched as she swallowed, and changed her gaze to the right before shaking her head no. She was lying. He didn't like liars. Reaching into the bag, he pulled the head out, watching as Ms. Hamby jumped and screamed at seeing it. He smiled. He should've just had the head exposed when he rang the doorbell.

"So you do know him!" Finally, she'd confess and tell him what he needed to know and stop pushing against the inevitable. He felt himself breath slowly in annoyance when she said, "No, it's a head! How do you expect me to react?

"Come on, So tell me, where'd you meet this handsome devil. Who broke the ice? Let me guess it was him, " With his left hand grabbing the tufts of hair from the man's head, he let his right hand move his lips as he voiced, "Yo' sho' got some purty lips, girlfriend, Mwah!"

"Stop! Just" she couldn't look at the head and seemed to shift her gaze towards the floor, "drop it."

He did. He watched as it made a thud against old carpeting and rolled. "You see, I help you with your little problem, you help me."

"I don't know much about him."

He smiled again. Ah, baby vampires with their lack of knowledge, he forgot just how much common sense they lacked. "I'm not talking about him. Tell me everything you know about Bill Compton."

"Bill? Well, he's my maker first of all. And he's like 170 something years old, which is really, really old!" He stared at her, wondering if asking random Bon Temps residents would give him better results. "This is his house. "

"Ms. Hamby, you're telling me things I already know. Do you know how hard it was to dispose of that body?" He fixed her with a questioning look and she let her eyes travel to the now stationary head on the floor. She nodded.

"He never wanted to be a vampire and he was made one against his will. He's in love with Sookie Stackhouse and they're going to get married," she breathed in before continuing, "well, I think they are. I dunno, the last time Sookie saw him was at a French restaurant-Guillaume- a few miles south of here and then he was kidnapped right after he proposed to her. Can you fuckin' imagine what it'd be like to be proposed to and then come back to tell him yes, and he just vanishes?" she looked at him, and he guessed from the non-pleased expression he was conveying, she stopped that theoretical tangent. "So Sookie went to go look for him…well, actually, she's still lookin' for him. Yano we found these werewolves with some pseudo-nazi tattoos. Can you believe it!" she smiled up at him as if she told him a secret with a net worth in gold.

He allowed his right hand to swirl in an elaborate fashion, goading her to continue. "Neither I nor Sookie know where he is." He felt compelled to say, "I do" but allowed her time to continue talking. "It's my guess that Sookie will find him soon, though. She's so tough and she'll never give up on Bill. " She looked at him, her hands now palm flat against her knees. " Is it….is it possible for a vampire to love a human? I mean, Bill loves Sookie and Sookie definitely loves Bill, but do you think that… I dunno, do you think that it could be the same for someone else?"

And here, he felt that little distraction coming back. She must've been talking about herself and a human man, but he felt like she was seeing his own ponderings. "I don't know." And he was completely serious. He could see and hear the no-named waitress smile at him as she said, "thanks Franklin" before leaving the motel, and it was the weirdest sensation, the feeling, like pride, that he felt by replaying that scene.

"Tell me about the people that know Sookie." This baby vamp, even with that wise question, was starting to annoy him, and he felt like he would and could waste an entire night just hearing her nonsense with nothing to thank but a migraine and lost time.

"Well, her brother, Jason, he's really hot, but, he's about as smart as a box of rocks. " She shrugged. "He's like the most promiscuous being I have ever met." She corrected herself," well, have heard stories about. I haven't really talked to him, but have seen and listened to him from afar. Bill doesn't want me mixing in with bad company. "

He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the migraine press upon his skull. He hoped, and prayed-however, ironic that was- that she would give him something worthwhile and quickly.

"Then there's Sam Merlotte. He's the owner of Merlotte's Bar. He had a crush on Sookie. Well, Bill said that he loved her, and I guess if it's love, even if it's one-sided, he'd continue to love her. Anyways, he doesn't talk very much. But he's pretty lax at the bar when it comes to hiring and I heard that he's a good friend to his employees. Then there's Arlene, she works with Sookie, and then there's Lafayette, he's really, really funny, and sassy. I've always wanted to talk to him, but Sookie says that he doesn't deal with vampires that well. And then there's Tara." She stopped talking. Looking around as if she should get commemorated for such a "moving" and detailed speech.

He felt his eyes close in annoyance. At least, she was almost done. And he could ask any of those people questions. "Who is Tara?"

"Oh, Tara. She's the bartender at Merlottes and childhood best friend of Sookie." He felt his interest piqued. He mentally said her name slowly, T-A-R-A, applying the name and sound of it to memorization.

"She definitely doesn't trust vampires, and doesn't like them all that much. I met her through Sookie and she doesn't seem like a people person either. I don't really understand how they're friends, Sookie is just so open, and Tara is really, really closed off. However, when I see them together, I can tell she generally cares for Sookie and will do anything for her."

He rose, having gotten all the information that he needed. "Oh, I forgot about Terry and Andy Bellefleur!" she stood up as well.

"That won't be necessary. Thank you Ms. Hamby." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a leather wallet, the dead man's leather wallet and tossed it at her. "Next time you go kill something, I suggest you dispose of them quicker and don't leave them with their I.D's."

And he left, not bothering to look at her expression nor bothering to hear her list of other Bon Temps names.

Sookie would be gone to look for Bill and if she was as persistent as that baby vampire made her out to be, he'd have to let Russell know. He remembered the address on a file. Of a grandmother who owned the house that Sookie and Jason lived in as children. Would they still live there? If she was gone, would Jason be there now? He had hoped that Jason Stackhouse would be there, if he was as intelligent as "a box of rocks", getting into the house and glamouring him about information would be easier, a lot easier.

Instead of walking or running to the Stackhouse's home, he thought driving would be better. Minutes later the car was parked outside the house. He got out of the driver's side, looking at the deteriorated yard and the outside of the house. _What human would live in this…house? It's barely capable of being fit for a vampire_. Hoping the inside was better than its exterior, he rang the doorbell. Hearing footsteps against the floor beyond the door, he hid the smile at the thought of someone still living here, being able to give him what he needed. When the door opened he was surprised at whom it was, and he could tell that she was just as surprised.

There she stood, looking at him as if she had conjured him and trying to get a bearing as to where she was. But, when she did, she tried to slam the door in his face, and he placed his foot in the crevice to keep it ajar.

"Good evening, Tara!"

"How do you know my name?"

"A delightful baby vamp told me," and here he had to physically force himself to change that, "Actually, she was quite annoying."

"Well, you can just forget my name. To you, I'm just that girl from Bon Temps."

"Oh, but you're so much more than that, "He looked at her, moving closer, so that his body stood under the door frame, and with one hand he pushed the door further open, getting a better view of her and of the orderly entrance inside. "Tara. What a beautiful name. " He smiled, liking the way he could say it so easily with little difficulty, as if that name was meant to be said frequently in reverence. "May I come in?" he said, nonchalantly.

"Oh hell no! I'm sorry, Tara ain't in right now, you're gonna have to get ahold of someone else."

And he felt it. The annoyance created earlier, growing at this denial at his simple request. _Did she think that he was going to hurt her?_ That she could so easily evade and deny him such a small request as being allowed into her-The Stackhouse's-home? He looked into her eyes, fixing her with his gaze, watching as she succumbed to being glamoured. "Actually, I can get a hold of you any time I want, isn't that right, Tara?"

"Yeah….."

"Now. Can I come in?" He started walking closer to her even before she said, "You wanted to come in?" and made room for him.

The interior fared better than the outside and he had to continue to hold her gaze while looking at it all through his periphery. "Please, sit down on the stairs."

"Okay…." She sat down, obediently. He didn't like the idea of having a zombie-like Tara, but he needed more information at a quicker rate than he was currently achieving,

"Tell me everything you know about Bill and Sookie." He felt drawn to her. To touch her to show her that he meant no harm even if he was controlling her in every which way. He felt his index finger trail along the curve of her jaw and as she gasped, he felt his breathing quicken. He had to focus but…

_She was special._

"She said it was love at first sight…." He guessed that if she wasn't being mind controlled right about now, she would've rolled her eyes, and scoffed at such a statement. She hinted at disbelief.

"But you don't believe that?"

"Love? Hell no. People just get what they want and leave." Was she applying that to everyone or her past relationships? He felt intrigued, yearning to ask, to know what type of man could just get what they wanted from her, and leave unscathed. He had to stay focused though.

"And what does Sookie want?"

"Quiet. Being a telepath gets real noisy and she can't hear Bill." He was intrigued_. A telepath_. He's met vampires, the occasional werewolf, shape shifters, self-proclaiming wizards, but a telepath was new. He could add it to the list of 'never before seen' alongside witches and animated snowmen. Russell would love to hear that information, and he'd probably be rewarded something extra if he gave up that little fact. It explained so much about all the files that Bill had on her.

"And her brother, is he a telepath too?" He wanted to know if it ran in the family. If it did, would it be possible to glamour one if they weren't trained well?

"What Jason…? Jason barely knows what he's thinking, let alone anyone else." He felt nauseated hearing his name in "_that_" voice, seeing the way that her lips would involuntarily widen into a grin just by saying Jason. This Jason Stackhouse that Ms. Hamby labeled the male bint of Bon Temps, who'd sleep with anything, and had nothing to offer but sex_. Did they sleep together?_ He narrowed his eyes, seeing her smile only widen as she went off to some reverie that he wasn't privy to seeing.

"If you keep smiling like that I'm gonna get jealous."

"I thought I loved him for a long time, but he never loved me back." And he could tell that she loved him. It wasn't just the way she said his name, and it wasn't the way she smiled thinking about him, it was the way her voice broke and how her eyes watered as she said the word 'never loved'.

"Then he is an idiot." He felt himself drawn in. He pressed his lips against her own and felt no response in return. He could've glamoured her into kissing him back, but it wouldn't feel right. He pulled back.

"Where's Sookie?"

"In Jackson, Mississippi"

"Where in Jackson?" He was deviating from the course. He wanted to ask her more about Jason, ask her what other men she had in her life, ask her why she was at Sookie's house –the house that also belonged to Jason- and not at her own.

"I don't know." And she didn't. It was impossible for humans to lie when they were glamoured.

"Find out."

He watched her as she fidgeted, perhaps trying to get out of being hypnotized, or trying to think about where her cell phone was. She reached into her back pocket, pulling out her cell phone and began dialing. It rang three times before he could hear Sookie speak on the other line.

He mouthed her lines for her and as he felt Sookie starting to hang up he silently screamed, "Sookie." As soon as he heard silence on the other end, he looked down in anger, mouthing 'fuck', and allowing the spell between him and Tara to break. She bounced back quickly, running down the stairs and trying to get to the front door. He was already in front of her, blocking her exit.

"What do you want with Sookie?" She looked scared, her eyes widened, but she wasn't panicking. He marveled at her ability to stay calm in this type of situation. However, did she really think that he'd really hurt her? He took a step closer to her, feeling that magnetic attraction once more.

"I think what you should be asking is what do I want with you." And then it happened. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her arms across the closed doorway.

"Let me go!" And now, she tried to push him back in such a futile manner. And he couldn't help but lower his head towards her, to look into her eyes and tell her, "No."

"Why?"

And he felt his heart beat, or perhaps he imagined it. "Because you want me to." His fangs popped out and the sensation that he denied himself since the Motel returned. Yes, he possessed her body and that didn't help him get over their invisible 'binding', but maybe if he tasted her blood, he could disown whatever it was that drew him to her, and he could get the last few pieces of the puzzle, get the money, and split this backwards town. He bit into her, and he heard her scream. The beauty in her voice echoed in the empty house and he would've wanted to hear it again, until her blood touched his tongue. The taste of it was something he had not had before. It was…empowering.

A river of blood ran along her neck to her collarbone, staining her blouse. He lapped it up with his tongue and smiled against her neck, as he kissed his way to her lips. Her eyes were open, but blank, and she didn't scream and she didn't say a word. He kissed her lips, but still didn't get the desired response. She fainted, slumped against him. He could hear her heartbeat in her blood, and though it grew weaker, it was still strong. She'd survive. The task then was leaving.

He picked her up and stood in the middle of the doorway and staircase wondering what to do with her. He now had tasted her essence, and he should have felt fulfilled, but that void he felt after her leaving his-the motel's-bed, was only growing now. He had to take her somewhere; he couldn't leave her here, go away on more business, and expect her to still be here, waiting for him.

He carried her over to his car, laying her in the passenger side, and strapping the seat belt securely over her body. She'd probably wake up soon, probably hysterical as to where they were going, as to what he wanted from her, and why her blouse was marked with blood. In truth, he only had one of the answers to the three questions, one was just a guess, and the other was going to be some elaborated story. He got into the driver's side, not bothering with the seat belt because well, why bother with safety when you're already dead?

He stopped at a small gas station, needing a full tank where he was going. He saw them. Nestled in the corner by an ice cream bin and the sunflower seed and pig skins assortment were different bouquets of flowers. They were cheap. But, how many florist shops were open at this hour and how'd it look if he went scourging around for fresh ones? "Which one means adoration?" he asked the owner, and the owner gave him an expression that was as confused as they came. Did he even know how to spell adoration?

"De fuck I kno'. Dey jus' flowers. She'll like 'em no mattah wha'"

He picked up a yellow and orange assortment and bought a full tank of gas with a credit card.

"'ave a goo' day, Mr. Miller." He was probably forced to say that by gas station policy. But never the less, he turned around and said, "Oh, I plan to."

After he filled the tank, he went around to the passenger side, seeing her still unconscious, her head slumped to the right, and breathing softly. To the outsider eye, she'd just be a sleeping passenger on a long road trip. He went to the truck, popping it open, to find what he was looking for. _A barely used roll of duck tape_. Luckily she wasn't awake yet, and ducktaping her feet was easy without her fussing and without anyone else loading up their car at 3 am in the morning. When he got to her hands, he decided on ducktaping the flowers to them, so that she would see them constantly and not analyze the fact that she was being bound.

Pulling out of the gas station, he made his way onto the highway, traveling to the Mississippi-Louisianna border.

One hour into the trip, she stirred, moaning something that he couldn't comprehend and he took his eyes off the road to glance her way. She just looked around slowly, first gazing at the road ahead, then down at her tied feet, then her hands, then to her bouquet of flowers, then to him. And then she realized what had happened, what was happening.

"You're awake finally. How do you feel?"

"How do I feel? What the fuck kind of question is that. What the fuck are these." He guessed she was talking about the flowers by the way she was holding them in front of her, as if inspecting them maliciously.

"Those are flowers," he smiled at her and then concentrated back on the road, "Don't tell me you've never been given flowers before?"

"Not them ducktaped to me. " She started looking around, perhaps trying to get a sense of where she was in case she was able to escape. She had no idea where she was and he theorized that she's never been outside Bon Temps, let alone Louisiana before. _3 more hours to go_

"What do you want with Sookie and Bill?"

"Nothin. My employer's interested in them. Him mostly"

"Is that where we're going, to see your employer?" He was amazed at her relentlessness. Even though she was in a precarious situation, not knowing where she was or where she was going, she still tried to remain in control. He wondered if a relationship could survive with neither person willing to submit.

A small sign off on the side of the road gained his attention."Slappy's snack shack. 5 miles. Persimmons and cherries. If there's one thing that I miss more than sunshine, it's good fruit!" He could still remember the taste of fruit, although it was many centuries ago, and he wondered what her favorite was. What other interest could they share?

"Where are you taking me?"

"Now here I am trying to make pleasant conversation and you want to ruin all my surprises"

"There's nothing pleasant about being bitten and tied up."

He looked at her and honestly said, "You're tough, I could taste it in your blood. I'm not a bad guy, Tara. I just want to make sure that we have a chance."

"Untie my hands. I'll give you whatever chance you want." And had he not known her as he thought he had, he would've untied her, probably would've still if he known what he knew now just to see how she would try to get away from the inevitable, but he liked her where she was.

"Are you like this with your other boyfriends?"

"This is kidnapping!"

"This is opportunity. My job supports my financial needs…" his non-driving hand, pulled a stray braid away from her loose ponytail and tucked it behind her ear, only to then rest on her shoulder, " my emotional ones, well…." He breathed, and smiled at her. "There's just so much that I want to tell you. God, I've been so lonely, but now you're mine, and all that's going to change. "

Then she was silent. She remained silent for an hour, and he had no idea what she was thinking, and he didn't know how much of the silent driving he could take. He turned the dial of the radio to find stations with a good signal.

* * *

_Whenever I'm alone with you, you make feel like I am whole again. Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again _

_

* * *

_

"Doesn't this feel like our song?" He turned towards her, and she just kept staring out at the road, silent. He couldn't even tell if she had heard him. "You know, I don't know which I like better, the Cure's original, or 311's cover, and as much as I know about you, I don't know what type of music you like, what artists you love?"

_Silence_

"Well, we've got time to talk about music." He hummed for the rest of the song, until the signal was so bad that the entire channel was lost.

It was almost 6:30 am when he pulled up to Russell's mansion, and luckily when the car stopped, Tara didn't struggle or scream, just merely allowed him to unbuckle her seat belt, rip off the duck tape around her ankles, and help her up the stairs. She didn't say anything when he opened the door and led her through.

"No, no, no! Mon Dieu." There was Talbot, in his robe probably made out of silk that he definitely didn't deserve to be in, stampeding his way towards him, attempting to push him out of this home. Why Russell had chosen to turn him of all people into something so privileged, he had no idea.

"Russell's expecting me"

"He's out and he'll be awhile," he looked at the door and then at him, as if blatantly telling him to leave. He, unlike Russell, knew absolutely nothing about him then.

"That's okay, we'll wait." He left Tara and walked to the adjoining room, sitting beside a book shelf.

"Is this for me?" He walked over to Tara, examining her like she was some prize, and he bit back the urge to show his fangs in a place where fangs weren't allowed. "My, she's shivering. I think you've scared her."

"She's just cold."

"Well," he looked at her, starting from her feet to stop at her neck and see puncture wounds, and then to rest on her face. "I'll go see if we have something around here, although guests usually aren't affected by such things as 'the cold'"

He watched the other man walk away, hearing him say to some no-name house keeper, "It's too skinny."

**To Be Continued...**


	5. Trouble because I Got the Right to Sing

**Rating**: T, maybe M for language, gore, and all that jazz. Next chapter might be M.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own True Blood, if I did, I'd make Eric stop being creepy. :O

**A/N**:Another huge, colossal chapter because you guys deserve it for the wait, and because this spans two episodes or so. **Reiteration**: Please, if you even get halfway through the story, review! Hateful reviews (with constructive* criticism) or loving reviews make me excited and eager to continue the fic- much more than 'story alerts' or adding the story to your favorites. Thanks.

**Also** _italics_ are for thoughts or flashbacks***.

**Credit**: Betrayal quote from Honore de Balzac

Songs that got me in the mood for this chapter and for Tara/Franklin: As many of the songs from Pink's "Can't Take Me Home" Album (link to playlist below, if you want to listen, while you read). And Marvin Gaye's "I Heard it Through the Grapevine"

Youtube (dot) com/view_play_list?p=783C40C19684A21D

Covers Trouble (episode 5) and I Got the Right to Sing the Blues (episode 6)

I **WILL **be doing a sequel to this fic once it wraps up with Season 3 and adding all sorts of crazy, surprising things for Franklin and Tara :D

**Beta**: BooksCatsEtc!

Thanks for reading! I love you guys like a Maker loves his Progeny.

* * *

**Trouble because I Got the Right to Sing the Blues**

She sat there, observing her surroundings before switching her gaze to her keeper and then to the Greek man beside her. "Who's a pretty girl, who's a pretty girl?" She arched an eyebrow at his comment, knowing that if he wasn't a vampire, she definitely would've punched him for him talking to her as if she was a damn newly-bought puppy.

"Piss off." She breathed as cold fingers ran along her neck, only to sweep her braids off her shoulder.

"You and your guest are all matchy-matchy, but I'm afraid you don't go with the décor."

"Well, no one cares what you think, shut up."

She watched as the two went back and forth, and wondered if she could play a pawn.

"I'm awful sorry," she said looking at the Greek man, wanting to see if he'd fall for it. If he could at least bait the hook of her being a 'polite' guest, who hated to intrude.

Franklin, and she hated to think of him on a first name basis turned towards her and said, "No, you're not" just as the other said, "good girl!" She was pretty sure if he had any dog snacks nearby, he would've given her one.

"Don't listen to him; he's just the cleaning lady." And just then, the banter almost turned into a brawl when the other man, showing off his fangs, screamed, "psycho fucking thug" and Franklin bared his own. She breathed, hoping that whatever shit they were going to get into wouldn't involve her, especially since she was tied and couldn't at least try and defend herself, but then she heard a door open, heard footsteps, and saw three figures. The first figure, an older man looking in his mid to late forties, the second a woman that looked like she belonged in a 1920's ad, and….was that….

"Bill?"

His eyes widened seeing her there. It was Bill! Let it be known that she wasn't particularly fond of vampires, but seeing Bill there, the love of Sookie's life and therefore a somewhat associate of hers, was the greatest thing she could've hoped for.

"You know him?" the woman said. _It was amazing that they could all be so nonchalant with blood stained faces and clothes. _

"I thought I did." Questions began to crowd her mind._ Where was Sookie if Bill was here? Who did they kill? Why was Bill with these other vampires, Sookie said that he hated vampires, despite he himself being one. _

"Why is she here?" Bill said. He locked eyes onto her and she saw concern in them. She couldn't tell, however, if the concern was for her welfare or about her seeing him like this…

"Yes, why is she here?" The shortest of the three, the older man said in his thick Mississippian accent.

"She wants to be with me."

"Hence the restraints"

"She's mine!"

And the woman, looking at Franklin as if he was more crazed than any of the others said, "Relax, nobody wants her."

And what hurt her the most and what scared her the most was the way Bill said, "Certainly, not I." as if he was denouncing her existence, as if he was going to leave her there to rot or fend for herself.

"Help me," she pleaded. She wasn't one to beg for help or to accept it on most occasions, but she, Tara Mae Thornton was scared to death being in a house that was filled with the dead.

"No." and just like that, Bill turned his back on her, walking away and not glancing once to see her terrified expression, to see the woman shrug her shoulders, pout, and say a facetious "aww."

She swallowed involuntarily, her eyes drifting back to the carpeted floor as she willed herself to not let the unshed tears spill, not in front of such opportunistic creatures.

"I have something for you, Sir. Something that will make you very happy." And he moved away from her, going to the shorter man, who she was guessing was his 'employer', and leaving her there, tied up. She felt herself start shaking and tried to mentally count backwards to calm down. Freaking out would probably make these people happy and they'd be more willing to keep her there, probably play 'fucking dress up with her until they got bored and killed her. No, she needed to just sit there, and wait and hope, however, ironic it was, that Franklin would come back so at least she would have some semblance of familiarity.

"Russell, you're not supposed to bring work home!"

"Darling, King. Come into my office, Franklin. Talbot, I'll be back."

So that was his name, Talbot. Very unconventional, but everything about this fucking crypt of a mansion was unconventional.

She watched as Franklin followed after "Russell" only looking back at Talbot to tell him, "don't forget to clean the mantels, they're dusty", smile, and continue down a corridor that she couldn't see.

"As to thialo, Ay gamisou vampír!" He threw a glass across the room and before she could blink, before it hit the floor that would surely leave it to shatter, he had traveled across the room, grasping it just in time. He breathed in, ran a hand that was not holding the glass through his locks and looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, how very uncomely of me."

She looked at him, trying to find the words to a phrase that wasn't "If you want to be fucking comely, come over here and untie me." She wasn't sure how many seconds went by before she plastered a fake smile and said, "It's okay…I think you're doing a marvelous job. Thanks for the blanket."

"I really do hate your boyfriend."

And a voice, the voice of reason told her to not say, "he's not my boyfriend" out loud. Because even if this vampire wasn't necessarily going to harm her, there were probably others that might like an easy restrained meal that had no ties to anyone with power in this place.

"TALBOT!" she could hear that thick Mississippian accent again, the fine, cultured, and bizarrely calm voice scream his name from either down the hall or upstairs.

_He was either a personal friend of Russell's or a lover_

"Coming, darling!"

_That solved that question._

He sauntered away only stopping in the archway to turn towards her and ponder. Was it seconds or minutes until he spoke? "What do you know about vampires?"

Was he really asking her that question? Did he think that she wanted to play a fucking jeopardy game where the topic was "vampires" for the price of…let's say her life? She'd humble him.

"They don't eat food."

He swirled his hand, goading her to continue. "They can't survive in the sun. They sleep in the ground…and apparently, in mansions and motels…"

He looked at her and then looked behind him. Did he hear something that she couldn't? Someone approaching? "Let's just say…or rather let's not say that if I were being held against my will, I'd use some tips to get out of my precarious situation. I won't say who, but a certain untouchable is blinded by rage, lust, and madness, so if I were you honey, I use those assets for one of those categories. By the way, vampires aren't the only-"

"TALBOT!" the voice called again breaking up whatever else he was going to say. He had told her a lot without having to talk a lot. The message she got from his little survival tactics were a) bid her time b) play her bag of tricks. And as Franklin walked by Talbot, and as she distinctly heard a growl pass between the two, she started thinking of all the tricks she could possibly play.

He knelt beside her, his hands now resting upon her own. He locked eyes onto hers and had a smile befitting that of a fucking 9-year-old at a candy store, "I got good news!"

_You're going to release me and never try and contact me again_, she thought bitterly. She was silent, waiting for him to continue.

"My business with Sookie and Bill are almost done. Russell will transfer the money to my bank account in a few days, until then, we can stay here."

A few hours she could probably cope with…but_ days_?

"So what do you want to do? We could stroll around the grounds or…."

She could picture it now. Her walking beside him, her hand ducktaped to his own as if they were two lovers glued together –literally. "I'd like to take a shower." And she did. Being scared shitless, not knowing if any minute you were going to be drained like a fucking Capri Sun tended to make you exhausted, and the last thing she wanted was to fall asleep around him, to be at her most vulnerable.

He led her to a room that would make Maryann's spacious house seem like Sam's trailer. She would've guessed that the room would be covered in black or crimson as seen in any vampire story or movie, but instead, there were soft colors of orange, yellow, browns, and various shades of gold. Hell, if she didn't see the windowless walls, her ducktaped hands, and had a sudden case of amnesia, she would've thought she was in one of the finest hotels. He lead her around the king size bed, the empty closet that seemed bigger than her own room, and to the bathroom.

The first thing that she noticed when he moved passed her to turn on the water, was his reflection in the mirror. _Weren't they supposed to have no reflection? _That has now been three vampire theories that she had proven false -1) vampires tasting of blood because of their just blood diet 2) Vampires only sleeping in the ground 3) Vampires having no reflection. What else would she get wrong about them? Were the killing methods she seen in so many movies, that Sookie had told her about also wrong?

The second thing she noticed was the way he just stood there. Her hands still bound with tape made it impossible to take off her clothes, and there was no fucking way she was going to let him help her.

"Do you mind?" she thrusted her clasped hands in front of her, looking at her wrists, and then at him so he didn't get the wrong idea and play the strip Tara game. He came closer, looking down at her, and grasping her hands in his own, his fingers moved in small circles, temporarily relieving the aching muscles that were fixed in the same position for so many hours. His pointer finger ran along the smoothness of the tape, feeling the thickness of it, the fingertip dug into the edge, feeling it start to separate from the skin it molded itself to. She bit onto her lower lip, knowing that even though it'd be quick, it was going to hurt like hell. Her body was physically exhausted and the nerves were more sensitive than normal, and she closed her eyes waiting for the tape to be pulled. But _nothing_.

His thumb moved over the ridge his pointer had created and slowly pulled. She bit back a yell as he slowly pulled the tape around her wrists, pulling, what she was probably sure was a little skin. The first unraveling was painful, but the second was excruciating as the skin more exposed, felt the sting of cold air. By the time he was at the last layer, the third, she couldn't control the tears that were freely falling. It hurt to unbutton her blouse, unclasp her bra, and unbutton her jeans, and slide her underwear down to her ankles, all the while seeing as he just stood there, smiling up at her in a smile she couldn't discern. _Fucking asshole_. She narrowed her eyes as she fought the will to scream, "Can I have my fucking privacy!" He began to unbutton his own shirt, and her narrowed eyes widened. _Was he fucking serious!_ Did he seriously resort to making her cry and now he wanted to have sex with her.

"Do you want company?" his shirt joined the pile of her clothes as he moved closer to her, his fangs now showing as he stepped closer, looking down at her.

"No." She slid her body into the shower and pulled the glass sliding door to cover her frame, gasping at the coldness of the water as it beat against her aching body; she hesitated…he hadn't said anything, and Franklin being silent, wasn't good. Under the sharp, oncoming stream of water, she said, "I'm just so tired and I want to give all of myself to you." She slid the door open just enough to poke her head out, he just stood there, his focus on the floor in silent contemplation. She grew scared. She continued, "For a very long, long time. I'll be out soon."

He gave her a smile and left. As she heard the door closed, she let out a breath that she didn't know she had held. She looked around looking for a cloth. Nada. Looking for body wash she found a very generic bar of soap, and not being picky, she used it, sliding it against her skin to get off the grime. Her hand grasped the knob turning it to the warm setting. She had to wait three minutes until it started heating up, and she wondered if vampires couldn't detect cold, or what kind of hot blooded creature would enjoy such a cold shower. After ten minutes of scrubbing and just relishing in the fact that her muscles were starting to loosen from their previous strain, she stepped out of the shower. She let the shower run as she began to examine the bathroom. There was not one window, which she hoped for, but figured that it wasn't going to exist, and looked for anything that could give her leverage. She found nothing and scoffed at her own foolishness. _Really, girl? This is a fucking bathroom, not a damn armory_.

She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. _Wait, my cell_! She could text Lafayette, tell her she was somewhere in Jackson, in a gigantic mansion, and after he made some joke about her being sober, he'd come looking for her…and that would be a start. Looking down at where her pile of clothes were supposed to be, she whipped her head to the closed door. Her cell phone was in her back pocket of her jeans. Was it still there or was it in his car? She couldn't remember the last time she felt it against her, secure in her pants' pocket.

She looked at the railings next, thinking that there would be towels. But no. She pushed open the door, not caring as she left a trail of water behind her as she walked into the adjacent room. There. By the foot of the bed was her clothes in a pile probably marked for the wash. He smiled at her and she narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what was going on inside his head. He walked closer to her, a towel in hand and began to dry her off tentatively. "How was your shower?"

She couldn't hold back anymore. "What's with the fucking pleasantries? You do realize that after kidnapping me, leaving me with strangers that happen to be blood-thirsty vampires, keeping me bounded for hours and sadistically getting off on my pain isn't going to make me be fucking courteous."

"I got you a present"

She paused. Did he not hear her? Did he think that she was going to leap into his arms and hug him like he was Santa Fucking Claus?

And more importantly, she wondered, how in the twenty minutes did he manage to get her a present…unless he had gotten it for her prior to her coming here. Unless he planned on taking her here; and it wasn't just some spontaneous thing. That he actually thought about this…

He went into the closet that she was sure was empty when she had a quick survey of their 'room' and returned with a folded, white garment. "What the hell is that?"

He unfolded it, bringing it to her and placing it against her as if making sure it'd be the right size. She looked down. From this angle it looked…hideous.

"What's this?"

"It's a dress. Put it on." The cool air on her naked flesh was making her shiver, and although she didn't like the idea of him thinking she was some plaything that he could strip and dress up, she wanted something to cover her. She grasped the cloth before pulling it from his hands and pulling it over her head. She looked in a sidelong mirror, nestled against a wall across from the bed. She looked like a fucking slave mistress. She walked away from the sidelong mirror, hating the sight of the dress and the thin material clinging to her still wet body.

"Lie down."

She felt herself looking at the door, the door that lead to the hallway, which lead to the stairs, which then lead to four doors, the third door leading to the outside. But he'd catch her before she even made two steps. She had to remember to bide her time like Talbot had suggested.

She at first sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling the covers below her and slowly inched back until her head rested against the cool pillow. She felt herself relaxing into the springs and had to stir herself to look at Franklin, who was kneeling against the bed. She felt the bed shake as she tried to sit up, He worked fast, tightening her left wrist and then her right to the bed post pegs, followed by her legs, all before she could realize what was happening.

Once again he was standing over her, smiling at her like he did a good thing. She managed to have three categories to place Franklin's smiles in. One being a legitimate, sincere smile, the other being a cocky one, and then the third being labeled the 'unknown'.

And then he pounced onto her, rubbing his lower half against her leg. "I bought this gown especially for my lover, so even when I'm away. I can feel your flesh molded to me."

She felt his length against her inner thigh and despite her wanting to resist him, she felt herself gasping as she said, "That's so sweet."

"I know." And then he kissed her cheek and pressed the side of his cheek to her own, rubbing his stubble against her skin. But just as he was on top of her, he was off the bed, turning his back to her.

"Oh, I forgot. You got a text message." He flipped open the phone. She breathed in. "'Bitch where are you? ' You said no boyfriends, Tara. Who is he?"

She smiled. _Lafayette, her boyfriend?_

But he misunderstood that smile, and then his hand was around her throat, crushing her windpipe. She tried to reach for her throat, but her wrists were restrained in knotted ropes, making further indentations than the tape ever did.

"I'll rip your throat out." He lowered his face to hers and she felt her eyes roll in the back of her head as she desperately tried to get oxygen," He's my cousin…" his hand was still there, "and he's gay.." He finally let go.

"Oh, " he smiled, rolling his eyes as if choking women was analogous to a casual mistake. " well, how do I get rid of him? How about. I'm busy bitch. Bitch. no you're not a bitch to me, bitches are bitches….he also says hookah, not hook-er, hook-ah, it's a water pipe." He laughed to himself, thinking something was funny that she just didn't get or couldn't. "

_Use my bag of tricks_

"Tell him…tell him, 'Trust me motherfucker'"

"Trust me motherfucker? Genius…" he picked up the cell phone, inverted it so the screen faced away from him and towards her. "Hey, Tara, watch how fast I type 'motherfucker'. Cool, huh?"

"Yeah," she breathed. _Just play along._ "amazing…."

"I'll delete it so you can see it again." She turned her view to somewhere else in the room, trying to hide her current expression. "Look. Look at me" she snapped her attention back to him, just in time to hear, "love you" and to see him air kiss her.

He went into the closet that somehow seemed to be filled with clothes that weren't there before and grabbed a set of new clothes. Pajamas. And walked to the bathroom to change, closing the door behind him.

_What the fuck. He gets to see me naked, but ….._

He returned. Smile gone as he sat at the edge of the bed, his back turned towards her, contemplative. "I need to be honest with you."

_Fuck. Here it comes. He's probably going to tell me how he's going to kill me and leave me in this fucked up room_.

She breathed.

"I love you, Tara."

"…." She arched an eyebrow, wondering what to say. How long had they known each other. A week…maybe a week and a half and he was proclaiming that he loved her? Had the sex been that good? She felt herself saying a very Jason response. "Thank you…"

He lied down beside her, resting the back of his head against her pinned right arm. "You have no idea how lonely I've been"

_So lonely that you kidnap women and tie them to beds. _"Enlighten me."

"The last relationship I had was over 68 years ago."

"68 years ago…how exactly old are you?" she turned her head towards him, looking at him as if examining him under closer scrutiny, he'd physically appear older, marking him as anything but ageless. But he didn't. He just seemed like a man in his mid thirties.

"i was born in 1362, I was made In 1397. My first love was killed in 1479 during the inquisition. My second love was killed in 1556 during the protestant legislation and Mary's reign. My third during the Salem Witch trials in 1692…My fourth killed in 1942 during a hospital bombing. You have no idea how susceptible human life is to false ideology." _He couldn't look her in the eyes._

She definitely wasn't expecting that. She laid there, trying to wrap her mind around what she was told. Her knowledge of historical events not related to her little hick of a town was scarce. She knew about the witch trials, World War II, little bits of info on the Spanish inquisition, but nothing whatsoever about any legislation or Mary….is that where the term Bloody Mary came from? Despite her lack of total knowledge on the subjects she knew it was bloody, _traumatizing._

"You are my fifth."

She was sure that if she didn't stop arching her eyebrow, it was going to be permanently fixed in that position.

He turned towards her, his eyes locking onto hers. "Tell me of your past relationships."

"Nothing worth mentioning. They are all unimportant." She lied. If he had nearly choked her because of a text message that Lafayette had sent, she wasn't going to risk more injury by goading him into the men she had been with, well the ones that somewhat mattered.

"They're important if they've shaped what you've become today."

She still remained silent. Preferring to look somewhere else, she directed her gaze to the collar of his pajamas, fixed on half of the collar being tucked against skin.

"I could always glamour you into telling me." He laughed. He said it as if he was joking, but she knew better. That feeling. The way she could feel herself telling her not to do things, say things, but being forced to do so anyway. It felt worst than being under Maryann's spell; it was worst because she could remember, remember it all.

"The first was Jason."

"So you had a relationship with him…" she looked in his eyes, looking at an emotion she saw every day. Jealousy.

"No."

He relaxed, and that fire of envy calmed into compassion. She wondered how much of him was compassionate, how many good qualities he possessed versus the obvious malicious ones he showed her.

"I grew up with Sookie, her brother Jason, and Gran. Hell, I saw the inside of their house more than I did my own. My mama was an alcoholic, used to beat me when she ran out of alcohol and wanted more, used to blame me for my father's death, and blamed me for leaving her with her demons that she caused." If she wasn't focusing on the ropes that bounded her, loosening slightly, she would've relished in this ability to tell another soul about her fucked up childhood, to someone who wasn't the neighbors and didn't see it firsthand.

"One day, it was just after school and I was walking home with Jason and Sookie. They veered off towards the path towards their house and I went towards mine. When I got there she was really drunk. More drunk than normal. I don't remember what I said that sent her over, but she grabbed one of those fireplace pokers and tried to hit me with it. I ran out the door and ran to the place that I knew by heart-Gran's house. I remember Jason letting me in without me having to explain. I don't know where Sookie or Gran was, but I remembered when my mama came, pounding on the door, how Jason stood up to her. This 11 year old boy standing up to my furious, drunk mother as if he wasn't afraid of her, as if she couldn't hurt him or me. I believed him. Jason, the 11 year old, sent her back home! That night, Jason told Gran that I was staying over, he didn't tell her about mama or what happened, and she didn't ask. That was the day that I fell for Jason Stackhouse."

"And your mother. Did she die from her addiction?"

"No. She's still in Bon Temps, preaching the holy word to anyone who'll listen. Sometimes I don't think she deserves multiple chances, but you only have one mama, and you can't be picky, right?"

He stayed silent. And she didn't know if he was trying to remember what his mother was like or if he was contemplating Jason Stackhouse or if he wanted to hear her list of others.

"Then there was Sam. He was so in love with Sookie. Probably still is." She let out a frustrated sigh before continuing, "It started out as friends with benefits. And really, that's probably an exaggeration. If anything, we were associates. But then he wanted more. I think, if he couldn't have Sookie, having her best friend for sloppy seconds was almost good enough. I don't know if I felt ashamed or furious that he wanted something out of it, tried to make a relationship work when he still had feelings for her….and then there was Eggs."

She had to focus on her breathing, feeling her heart clench thinking about what happened to Eggs, about how close she was to having some semblance of a normal life, about the possibilities. "I was in jail and my mom refused to bail me out, thinking that the tough love that was void of any love whatsoever was good for me. After all the times I talked to Kenya to get her out of there, to use all my money to post her bail, she left me to rot in a cell. Anyways, this caretaker named Maryann came and "rescued" me" and when she said rescued she had to note it with sarcasm. "At first, it was great. I had a house that I could go into that wasn't locked, didn't have to worry about alcoholics, and had all the clothes and food I could ever want. But it was a fucking façade. A wolf in sheep's clothing, and just another example of how I get pulled into shit I don't wanna be in. Eggs was just like me. He grew up in a horrible living situation and Maryann was his golden meal ticket as she was mine. It would've been a dream come true, if Maryann wasn't such a psychotic bitch. Sookie never told me what she was, but she was another supernatural. She had the whole town under her spell, made them revert to these animalistic urges, made them kill, made Eggs kill against their..his will.. We'd do these horrible things, black out, and not remember a single fucking thing we did for her, because of her. And the fucked up thing about it was, I somehow conjured her, called her or whatever."

She breathed and feeling that he was going to say something she continued. "When she was gone… I have no idea what happened to her, Sookie showed Eggs what he had done, had him remember everything that he couldn't control, couldn't fight against. He didn't come to me.. she didn't tell me… " She had to close her eyes and hold onto the tears that she couldn't even shed at his empty funeral. "He tried to turn himself in and got shot for it. Fucking shot by a retired, good-for-nothin' cop…for something right."

"That was who the hillbillies were talking about when you punched…?"

"Yeah, and they deserved it. They didn't know Eggs, no one did. I will never forgive Andy Bellefleur for what he did to him."

As a tear ran down her face, she tried to wipe it, trying to pull her hands away from their restraints. She felt a calloused finger, his finger run along her face, to remove the tear that threatened to multiply.

"We have so much in common." And he hugged her, letting her cry into him, speaking in indeterminable words in the crook of his neck.

She had no idea how long he held her, how long she wept, until she fell asleep.

* * *

She woke up. She could hear it. The song of birds and it told her it was sunlight. She looked down, seeing his head resting on her chest , sleeping soundlessly…or, which would've been a more accurate term, hibernating. She got to work on her ropes. That talk was good, helped her clear her mind, but she knew a shitty situation when she saw one. All those things with Maryann and her past relationships told her that she was going on a path she didn't want to be on. Gnawing on the ropes, she manage to get her right hand free, which untied her left, which then worked together to undo her feet. Out of the bed, she looked at the wall, adorned with weapons that she didn't remember seeing. Sookie once told her what happened to vampires when you staked them in the heart. They turn into a disgusting pile of blood and blackened intestines. She turned towards him, watching him lie so still, she could've killed him, make sure that he definitely wouldn't be looking for her once she left this place. _She couldn't do it. _She turned the knob, opening the door and looking out in the hallway to see if there was anyone guarding. No one.

Walking down the hall, through a door, down the stairs, and through the third door: the back door. So far so good. What started out as a stealthy walk, turned into a jog. She couldn't see any roads so far, but knew that if she kept running, she'd find one, find drivers that could give her a lift. She heard howling behind her. What was that? She stopped, turned towards the noise and expected to find some intruder, but no. nothing. The howling grew louder, and there she saw it a dog. No. she squinted. A wolf. A wolf in broad daylight. Eyes widening, she stood her ground. _They like the chase right…don't run, Tara._ But then the wolf started galloping towards her even though she stood her ground! She starting sprinting. Maybe it'd give up after a few yards. She could see groves closing in, if she could get there, she could lose herself within the trees…

She felt the wind being knocked out of her as paws hit her back, forcing her to collide stomach first into the ground. Instinct kick in, she turned over. The wolf that should've been devouring her, was a naked man..

"What the hell?" His eyes were gold. And then he howled._ What the_ _fuck was happening_. She tried to scramble away, but he was too strong and effortlessly picked her up and slumped her over his shoulder. "What the fuck! Put me down!"

"Lookie what I got!" she looked down and there were now wolves running towards them. A pack, circling him, barking excitedly. "She's quite feisty. I wonder what she was running from." And then, before she could make any sense of what was happening, she saw it. One by one, a wolf changing into human beings. She was lost for words.

"You think she's part of Talbot's delicacies, Coot? Maybe we can eat her, he has like five already."

"She does look pretty tasty, doesn't she, boys! "

"I don't know what the fuck is going on, but if you don't let me go, ya'll are going to get the beating of your life"

They laughed. One even being so daring to raise her chin with a finger and say, "By who? By you cupcake?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, or Franklin." She wasn't sure what kind of response they'd show. Were they stronger than Franklin, was Franklin a nothing here with just a name?

She saw fear.

"You're Franklin's?"

_I don't fucking belong to anybody. _

"Yes."

"FUCK. Coot we gotta send her back."

"Yeah, I know." He sighed. "I fucking hate these vampires thinking they can call the shots."

He didn't have the fucking decency to put her down, to at least let her walk alongside him, but he continued to hoist her on his shoulder, carrying her like he was a fucking neanderthal with a kill.

She had to revisit the areas of the house that she had passed through so effortlessly. She was put down in the living room, on some sort of aged arm chair.

"Don't move." Coot said. Walking away, leaving her in a room with two nameless wolves...or humans or whatever the fuck they were.

He came back a few minutes later, rope in hand, the rope from the bedroom that she had gnawed, tugged, and untangled. He was going to make her a new fastening. She thought about running for it and looked at the door.

"Nuh huh!" he wagged his finger, coming closer.

"What the fuck are you?"

"Haha. My, you get to the point. She sure is blunt, isn't she!"

"I'm fucking right here, asshole."

They laughed. Coot seemed to be the leader or at least the spokesperson. "If I didn't know you were human, cupcake, I'd say you were a were."

"A what?"

They laughed again. Some asshole lackey spoke up, clarifying. "Werewolf."

She felt herself widening her eyes at that. Talbot had said that there were others in the house besides vampires…he had meant werewolves. What the fuck was she in some kind of Hollywood movie. Werewolves?

"Sun's about to set. cupcake. Your fanger psycho is gonna wake up soon, and it ain't lookin' too good for you. "

* * *

He felt refreshed. Moving his hand to the spot where Tara was supposed to be, he jolted from the bed. Rope totally undone from its posts and no Tara to be found. "Tara!" he panicked. _Where was she? What happened to her? Who had her? _

He pulled the handle to open the door just in time as Tara was pushed through, falling to the floor, hands tied together with the rope he had used earlier. Coot walked in.

"Sir-"

Grabbing him by the throat, he proceeded to choke him. "What the fuck did you do to her?" The were uselessly tried to grab his hands, to release the windpipe he was trying to sever.

"I….caught….her….escaping." He let go, watching the man fall onto the floor coughing and trying to gain his breath.

He was in shock. _Tara tried to leave. This place. Their room. To leave him._ He looked at Tara, who had managed to scramble away and sit upright.

"Is this true?" he looked down at her. She couldn't meet his eyes. She wasn't responding.

"Sir..?" Coot had tried to say something else as if his opinion mattered or that he cared to hear it. "Get out."

"But Sir,-"

"GET OUT!" he pushed the were out the door, just as Coot yelled "fucking vaaa-" as he stumbled to the floor.

Closing the door, he felt his breathing race. He turned towards her. Stared at her, willed her to look at him, when she couldn't, when she chose to instead look at the ground, and to start shaking, he felt himself grow angry. She was _guilty_. _She __**knew **__she was guilty_.

The silence he tried to keep couldn't be controlled and he yelled. "Why, Tara? Why! "

"I was afraid…"

He felt the air escape his lungs. She was afraid…of him? "Afraid of me? That's insane. "

"But you tie me up"

"To keep you safe. God, what other reason could there be?" And he felt it. Felt blood leak from his eyes. He hadn't cried in over a century and the thought of her, the one woman out of the hundreds that was so identical to him, feared him. His vision blurred as the blood fell from his eyes, running along his face to drip onto the wooden floors. He had to grasp a pillar to keep from falling. He had opened himself to her, told her all of his secrets that only Russell knew, and she had made him feel whole only to betray him. The pain was unbearable. "You have no idea how much you've hurt me." He breathed, trying to calm down, but feeling himself fall to places, "God, it feels like I've been staked."

"I'm sorry Franklin…'

He turned towards her, she was looking at him, meeting his eyes. He didn't believe her.

"My head's all confused. It's not you I'm afraid of." She turned around. He guessed she was ashamed of escaping the one man that could protect her in this place. "It's not you I'm afraid of. It's the other vampires. They're the ones that scare me."

She wasn't running from him. She was running from all the others that could do her harm when he wasn't around her to protect her.

"I won't let them hurt you. I promise." He walked around her to sit beside her. He bent down to kiss the top of her head to show her that she was safe here with him. "There's only you. Only you exist…there's only you."

A knock on the door caused him to look at the door. "What!"

"Russell would like to talk to you." He sighed. He left Tara to sit on the bed and opened the door seeing one of Russell's minions standing uncomfortably by the door. Human.

"Tara. Do you want to come with me?" Having her there would definitely show the King that he was serious about this one; that she was special out of the dozens he dragged asunder.

"Um. I'm really hungry."

Turning to the human at the door, who was dutifully standing there, waiting to be dismissed, he said. "Make sure Talbot gives her something to eat." Then, turning to look back at Tara, he smiled at her and said, "I'll meet you back in the kitchen."

* * *

"Coot said she tried to escape."

"Sir, she's afraid of the other vampires and the wolves here. Who's to blame her?"

Russell had that condescending smile again, the slightest tug of the corner of his lips as if he was blatantly thinking that he was an idiot. "You need to get rid of her. Drain her or defile her, but she needs to go."

"I'll do you one better. I'm going to turn her"

At this news, he stood up from the leather upholstery armchair that he was sitting in. "What? Have you lost your mind. How long have you known this girl? A day? Two?"

"A week and a half. It's different. She wants to be with me."

"Franklin, you have no idea of the responsibilities you take on by being a maker. It's nothing compared to being a progeny, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into. When I turned Talbot—"

"This isn't fucking about Talbot!"

Russell let out a frustrated sigh, and looking at him as if he was _allowing_ him to go towards his own end, he said, "She will be your undoing, Franklin."

He left Russell's study, determined as he took the corridor towards the kitchen

* * *

_Flowers_. She hadn't eaten in two days, hadn't drank anything in one in a half, and all she had in front of her was a fucking decorative plate of flowers. She should've thrown the plate across the room, but instead she felt herself crying, felt herself crying finding her in a fucked up situation _again_.

"What's wrong? Who made you cry? I'll kill 'em."

"No one. It's nothing, it's just….I'm hungry and I can't eat day lilies." She felt herself looking into the bowl, hoping that its ornate display would shift into meat, into fruit, into a fucking pez dispenser if possible, anything would work.

He came closer to her, picking up the bowl and surveying it .Did he even remember what food was. Not just good fruit, but food?

He threw it against the wall, at the spot where her human guard was, luckily he had ducked in time. She jumped not knowing what to expect from him. He had opened up to her, but she still didn't know what the fuck he was thinking most of the time.

"Tell Talbot we don't want any fucking flowers! " she heard the human guard run down the wall. "And don't come back, she wants to be with me!"

She looked at him, playing another trick from her bag: the innocent, nonchalant smile. "Franklin, we gotta talk."

"Don't say that. Women say that, then everything goes black and I wake up next to body parts"

_Shit! Think of something _

"No, baby it ain't that." He looked doubtful. "Franklin. I'm into you, like really into you," she seductively smiled and saw a new category to place that smile in. He was bashful. _A bashful vampire was new._ "Oh, Tara. " He laughed. "Tara…"

But if we're going to be together. You're gonna have to remember that I'm alive and that I need things…..like food."

He relaxed, his body no longer tense. "You're right. I'm ashamed"

"It ain't no thang. I'll remind you."

"How about I take you to dinner tonight."

Good. She'd get food and a few pluses. The restaurant isn't just going to allow some man to carry a woman with her hands tied inside. She could go to the ladies room and sneak out the window and hitch a ride back home, maybe crash at lafayette's for a while. She smiled. "That'd be great!"

"I know a great place. _Shoney's _up in Vicksburg…"

_Shoney's_? Cheap ass _Shoney's_? "Oh…hmm. Alright."

"We're going to celebrate your last night being human."

If she had tried to eat those flowers, she probably would've choked on them by now. "What?"

"I'm gonna turn you. I'm proposing. Will you be my vampire bride?"

All she could think was what the fuck. She had tried going against the rules and that didn't work, she tried going with them, and now she was going to lose her life….What kind of fucked-upness was this that she deserved.

It was 3 hours later. Shoneys was a disaster. The place had practically zombies for customers and she could've been fed on by Franklin, holding a rape whistle, while burning an American flag and they wouldn't have noticed. Worst, the fucked up bathroom that should've been closed by the health department alone, didn't have a window big enough for her to crawl out of. The food was bland, cold, probably undercooked, but she was grateful for the sustenance and Franklin even bought her a sundae with all the fruit that they had in the back. And now they were back, back in the room where she had to pretend she liked being in. She even smiled as he tied her up and pretended to be of assistance as she said, "Don't forget the feet too." Only after he disappeared into the bathroom did she take in a large gulp of air, trying to go over what she needed to do, what she needed to make him believe.

When he finally came out of the bathroom, with silken pajamas she smiled up at him. _She was going to run out of tricks soon._

"Tara, I will not be policed".

"Of course. I really missed you. I couldn't wait for you to get back." She forced herself to smile impossibly wider.

He looked skeptical. "Really? I don't believe that. You didn't even notice that I shaved." And then, whether it was his psychotic tendencies or his ability to pretend, he smiled and pounced on top of her. "I wanted to look nice for you. It's our wedding night tomorrow. By the way, your friend Sookie has been brought here."

_Sookie was here? Why…_She felt dread creep inside her. Because of what she told Franklin, the king knew of her power…..was going to use her…maybe kill her.

"What is Russell going to do with her!" She couldn't help but say it in panic, the previous plan thrown out the window. But he ignored her, continuing.

"So, that means my work for him is officially over You've got me all to yourself."

Maybe she could've gotten away before the wedding tomorrow, maybe she could've postponed the wedding. But now that Sookie was here, now that she was in trouble because of what she had done, she needed to escape first thing in the morning.

"Don't promise me something you can't deliver now. Untie me. Two hands are better than none," she said seductively, leaning in close enough to lock her lips between his and pull back to tease him, to trap him.

"Why, you wicked, little strumpet."

"I'm going to drink your blood tomorrow night. I want it now. I want to experience getting high off of you, while making love to you, and when it's my last act as human, I want to have the most amazing sex any human can have right before I give myself to you in death. " She needed to show him that she was just as identical to him, just as driven, that was the only way he'd trust her.

Hands and feet now undone, she paused, her eyes looking at his pulsing jugular.

"Go ahead then. Bite me"

She still hesitated. Just because he himself didn't taste like blood didn't mean his blood was going to taste like candy. The thought of her drinking something so vile was causing her doubt, but it only fueled him. He actually seemed turned on by it.

"Bite into my flesh, taste me, open me up, feed on me" And she did. She ripped into his flesh, felt as he moaned, and heard the sound of his fangs protract. She just had to taste a little. But the more she tasted it, the more she wanted. Was this what Jason experienced? It felt revitalizing, she felt stronger, indefensible, indestructable. She wanted more.

He dipped his head to her neck and began to suckle her skin. She felt his need to mark her...so that everyone would know that she was his, she was claimed, she was protected...know that she belonged to him...and she let him, she tilted her neck to give him access to her blood….

* * *

_Hours later_

"My beautiful bride, you have no idea what awaits you on the other side. No more pain. No more fear. No more rules." He hugged her, softly breathing against her neckline, until she could feel him go to sleep. She turned her body towards him, eyes locking onto his closed ones. She wondered what else he had seen, what else he had done. The sun was up and this time she was going to get away. She turned away from him, only to feel herself drawn back. Her mind reeled her to stop even as she kissed his still lips and she widened her eyes at what she had just done.

She got off the bed. _What the fuck just happened._ She had done every fucked up thing to get out of this situation and now she was going all Stockholm syndrome on Franklin. She needed to get Sookie and get the fuck out of here before she started buying fucking restraints for herself. She looked at the wall of weapons and saw a lot of pick axes, blunt objects, and a spiked ball.

_It's disgusting Tara, when you kill a vampire…you know when you take off its head or stake it, it dies in the most god awful way. I hope no one has to even witness it._

She needed to kill Franklin. She should've killed him. That was the only way that he was going to leave her alone and accept that she wasn't going to be turned into a fucking blood sucker. But picking up the spiked ball wasn't going to do the job. Could she really kill him. After she had told him so much, after he had told her so much? He had humiliated her. Made her feel helpless and desperate and she wanted him to suffer. She bashed his head in and kept bashing, knowing that it'd heal eventually.

Running down the hall she kept telling herself she needed to kill him, but her body wouldn't let her.

* * *

He awoke with a giant headache in a bloody bed, thinking the blood was Tara's. Panic flooded him.

"Tara!"

"Relax. She's gone...by the way, can I just say that that color looks good on you. You should get staked to make a statement."

_Fucking Talbot._

Sitting up in bed, he tried to remember what happened. He couldn't. "It's amazing that with all your talents of decorating and bitching you have time enough to... add uselessness to your resume."

"I can't wait till Russell's finally done with you. Then you can go back to the rock you crawled out under…"

Just then, Russell came into his room looking his usual calm self. He glanced at Talbot, who, glaring back at him, walked out of the room leaving them to talk. Was it considered a talk if he had no say?

"When a woman wants to betray her husband, her actions are almost invariably studied but they are never reasoned."

_What was he saying? Was he implying that Tara did this to him?_ _Betrayed him?_ "What's your fucking point, Russell?"

Now he looked pissed. That demeanor he carried of always being higher, superior to the other supernaturals shattered and he really showed what he really was, the monster that allowed him to survive for so many millennia.

"Because of her, Sookie Stackhouse got away. Because of her, whether she helped or not, a vampire is dead, not the one I had assigned to die. You have caused this. If you would've listened to me, this wouldn't have happened, but once again you like to cause messes. You will go back to Bon Temps. You will retrieve Sookie Stackhouse and bring her back to me, and you will kill your human."

"But…"

"Do not defy me!"

"Yes, sir." He really had hopes for Tara. He really thought she would be his out of the hundreds, but it seemed that he would have to destroy her. The hunt was on.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**A/N:** Btw, I love me some Sam/Tara, but from Tara's perspective, I can totally see her thinking that Sam wanted a relationship with her just because he couldn't have Sookie and he wanted to settle for 'less' so to speak.


	6. After Dark I'll Search

**Rating**: M for language, light sex, and all that jazz.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own True Blood, if I did, I'd try and get the recipe to Summer's biscuits. I also don't own the Bible -New Testament or Old-

**A/N**: This chapter merges episode 7/8 (**Hitting the Ground**/**Night on the Sun**) and my imagination . you will definitely notice it diverge from the path of episode 8 in some ways, but I find the break tantamount to my story arc for the sequel to this story. Thank you to all that added this to favorites/alerts/and reviewed it, it's really made my day. If you guys have suggestions or rants or praises, do share them with me, I won't bite, I promise.

Songs that inspired me and helped me write this chapter: Missy Higgin's "Secret", Dido's "Thank You", " No Angel", Disturbed's "Awaken", "Mistress", and "Breathe". The Black Keys: "Next Girl" and "Your Touch", Evanescence's "Lithium", and lastly, "Why Don't you Do Right?" sang by Amy Irving (see "Who Framed Roger Rabbit: Why don't you do right? " On youtube. Everyone knows that song).

**Beta**: BooksCatsEtc! =) LUFF!

* * *

**After Dark I'll Search**

It took Jason just an hour and a half to get to the hospital in Alexandria. He went past her, giving her a grateful look before checking up on his sister. She met the angry eyes of her cousin, Lafayette, which gradually changed from angry, to scared, and then to relieved. He must've been relieved that she escaped without any physical bruises, but he didn't know the mental ones she carried would last forever. She let herself be pulled into his embrace as he whispered in her ear, "God, hookah, you've never had me so scared in my life" and she tightened her arms around him, just wanting to be supported right now.

Lafayette looked passed her to turn to Sookie and check the condition she was in, only to look towards the no name man that sat in one of the three hospital chairs. "Tara, who the hell is that?" he whispered for her ears only. Somehow, the man overheard him.

"I'm Alcide Herveaux. I..I was sent to look after Sookie as a request of a man named Eric."

Lafayette's eyes widened in horror and she looked at him, wondering what made his strong-willed demeanor that he had all his life, crumble. Standing next to him, her hand slowly went to grasp his own only to quickly release it when she felt it tremble. _What the fuck_?

"Eric Northman?"

Alcide nodded, surprised, which confirmed it for Lafayette that it wasn't just another one of the several thousands of Eric's .

"Oh, hell no. This hospital room is for friends and family, and any friend of Eric's ain't fucking welcome."

She heard Alcide growl and rise from his seat, towering over both her and Lafayette. She wondered if he was going to shift…_do_ _they do that when they're angry or when they're just chasing after escapees_? She turned towards Lafayette and tried to diffuse the situation. "He helped me, Lafayette" and before she was asked about what that meant she continued," and Sookie. He's done us no harm, and cares for Sookie."

Lafayette seemed satisfied with that as Alcide accepted her explanation and sat back down again, mumbling, "'sides who said I was a friend of Eric Northman."

She didn't know much about Eric, but only the small details given to her by Sookie. He was a vampire, much older than Bill, and owned some club or business. That, and Sookie hated him. That was about as much knowledge as she had on the man that made the entire atmosphere of the hospital room tense.

Lafayette managed to be silent for a minute before he narrowed his eyes at Alcide and left the room, probably in search for a nurse.

She stepped besides Jason and glanced down at Sookie only to see what she saw an hour earlier, no response. Jason, she was sure, was too distraught about his sister to give any heed to the minor dispute between the guy he didn't ask the name of and Lafayette. She glanced at Jason, only to see him shudder as he cried and say into Sookie's palm "You gotta be okay, Sook. I need you to be." She hesitated, hand a few inches above his back, only to then rest against it and move in calming circles. "It's gonna be okay, Jason. She's gonna be fine. Sookie's tough as nails…." And she didn't know if she said those things so easily because she believed them or because she wanted to hope for something that wasn't hopeful.

The nurse came in and distracted her from her thoughts. The woman, mid-thirties- looked like a fucking wreck, hair frazzled, and hands shakily holding a chart, Sookie's chart. She read the little name tag, Lisa. She waited for the nurse to speak, but Lisa didn't, she just pursed her lips together and that made her grow fearful. "What is it?" Alcide and Jason, lost in their own contemplations previously, turned their attention to the nurse, not hiding their concern that she probably added to.

Lisa's voice was meek at best. "She..she hasn't changed since you brought her in. She's lost a lot of blood. But…we can't give her any blood transfusions."

"Why not?" She felt herself taking a step towards the nurse only to stop and remember that everyone had the right to personal space. She felt herself growing angry, her fingers clinch into a balled fist. "Did you even fuckin' try?"

The nurse seemed offended, either at the language being tossed at her or the way that she doubted her intelligence. "Yes….she seized up and convulsed as soon as we gave her O negative blood. We can't give her any more blood. Hell, we can't even try to-"

She interrupted, hopeful that this nurse was new, inexperienced and didn't know what the fuck she was doing, "Maybe you gave her the wrong kind of blood…"

"Your friend doesn't seem to have a blood type. For whatever reason we couldn't establish… Doctor Halverez put in an order for O negative." She gazed first at her and Alcide, then Lafayette, and then Jason. " O neg is the universal donor, I've never seen a reaction like that before…I'm sorry." She turned around to walk out of the room only to stop and rest her eyes on Jason and say, "I know it isn't my place…..but...as the next of kin you are responsible for making the decision when…"

"I ain't responsible" Jason interrupted her, voice quivering. Lafayette went to his aid as he said, "You're right, it ain't your place. We'll call you if we need you." And looked at the door. He briefly touched Jason's shoulder before saying, "Don't listen to her. It ain't over yet."

Seconds turned to minutes as they did roundabout switching, with two or three sitting down as one stood by Sookie, trying to talk to her in hopes she'd wake up.

She currently sat alongside Lafayette, her eyelids feeling heavy, but watchful. Anger built inside her as she saw him walk in or maybe it was a bolt. "Son of a bitch!" she stood up from her chair, only to be beat by Alcide who stood in between Sookie and Bill.

"Get out of my way." She really wished Alcide would punch him, hard enough to send the message that he wasn't wanted, but he just stood his ground.

"I don't take orders from vamps." She stood beside Alcide, looking into Bill's eyes, hoping that he could detect just how much she loathed him. Not only for abandoning her in Mississippi, but also for killing the woman that bent over backwards and every which way just to be with him, to care for him. He took both her and Sookie's trust and destroyed it, eradicated it so that there was nothing left. She wanted him to suffer.

Jason grabbed her arm, maybe she was too close to Bill, or maybe he could sense her rage building as it so often did by betrayers. "Tara, what the hell is wrong with you?"

She angrily turned towards him. He didn't know what happened to his sister, who caused this. "This son of a bitch tried to kill her." She pointed an angry finger at Bill, tears clinging to her eyelashes.

Jason's demeanor changed, his grip on her arm loosened and she wrenched it from his grasp.

"I can save her!" Bill looked passed her, passed Alcide, to stare at Jason. Begging him, and-she was sure- tricking him to acquiesce. "Please!"

Jason looked at the floor, bit his lower lip, and then said, "Okay."

"Jason!" She looked at him in shock. Who was this man before her. The old Jason wouldn't have let Bill even step one foot in the hospital, nevermind into Sookie's room with the information she had told him. She felt disappointment seep in and she couldn't look at him as he said, "Tara, let him through."

She pushed passed Bill, not caring that he was a vampire and not caring that he could kill her if he wanted to because hey, she was less on the totem pole than Sookie and he drained her. She couldn't meet the eyes of Lafayette as he stood up to probably follow her as she walked out the room in search to look at someone else, to think about something else.

She stood in front of a candy dispenser machine, eyes fixed on the last _Reeses Pieces_ for the A7 aisle and she reached in her back pocket to pull out her cell phone and a fold of crumpled dollars. As she slipped the dollar through the slot, she felt herself grasping ahold of the dispenser frame. An image came. It felt like she was in a car, out looking some dirt road as lyrics from the old radio churned out a "_Your Touch_" chorus. But just as the image or memory or whatever the hell it was came, it was gone, leaving her back in this hospital room, in front of the candy machine. Her _Reeses Pieces_ had fallen into the tray and she bent down to pick it up and removed the cups from its packaging. The chocolate and peanut butter was the best thing and only food she tasted now for 9 hours and it didn't look like her wait would be over yet till she had a real meal. She begrudgingly walked back to the room, not even looking at Jason as he tried to make eye contact with her or at Bill, who she desperately wanted to stake, as she moved towards the trash can to throw away the wrapper.

She sat down between Alcide and Jason. Lafayette had left to go get extra blankets. She wasn't sure if they were for everyone in the room that was surely going to stay overnight, or for Sookie, as if she could sense hospitality right now.

She felt her head bob slightly trying to keep herself awake and her eyes momentarily closed just to open quickly. She didn't know if it was seconds or minutes or hours until her head slumped against her shoulder and she was asleep…_vulnerable_

_She was pulled to that Mansion again, back to that mirage room. She could feel herself jerking and bucking against him as his fingers and tongue explored and probed….as coded messages were whispered from his lips onto her skin as soft and light as butterfly kisses. "_**You're mine**_," _was whispered against her ear as she awoke with a start, panting and gasping.

"You okay?" Alcide looked at her and she had to breath in shallow breathes. _What the fuck was that?_

"Yeah." She lied.

And then she heard it. A high pitch wail, making her come out of her slight stupor and confusion, and awake Jason and Lafayette. Sookie. She was screaming. She jumped up with the others.

"Sookie!" She felt herself smiling in relief. She was okay. She looked at Bill, who couldn't look at Sookie, avoiding her stare.

"Get away from her you piece of shit." Couldn't he tell that his presence was upsetting Sookie?

"Tara, he saved her life." Lafayette grabbed her arm, as if holding her would make her see the light and see reason.

"Yeah, after he fucking tried to kill her!" She watched as Jason moved to Sookie's side, to grasp a stray blond lock and pull it behind her ear.

"Sook, you're alive…come on say somethin'. You're not brain damaged, are you?"

_Silence_. They were all silent, wondering if she was going to speak, if she had the strength to.

"I need to speak to Bill, alone." She was adamant.

She felt her anger rising. She had narrowly missed dying and now she wanted to risk it again? Was she really that stupid or that naive? "So he can finish what he started!" she felt angry tears come to the surface.

"Tara, please! Just leave."

She felt herself unable to speak as Lafayette went to Sookie's rescue, "Ya'll heard her. Out!" She walked ahead of him only to lean against the wall outside of the room. Lafayette and Jason were talking about something and she didn't have the energy to try and hear what they were saying, and frankly, didn't fucking care to hear it either.

Alcide stood beside her, silent. She should've asked him if what he was was by birth or like the Hollywood films, where if you're bitten by a werewolf, and survived, you'd become one yourself. But she didn't. The first thing that came out of her mouth was a question of a different nature. "Why the fuck didn't you shoot that bitch."

He gruffed or maybe he growled, not liking the term she gave his ex before saying, "she wasn't goin' to do nothin' , she was just wanting Bill for his V. should've let her have him too after what he did to Sookie."

If this situation wasn't so grave, she'd have sarcastically laughed. "She didn't look like she was going to do nothing. It looked to me like she was going to do a lot of shit," she counted off with one finger, then two, then three" like, kill Sookie, kill me, and probably kill you after you shot her boyfriend in the head."

Silence passed before she heard him speak, speak so quietly that she was almost sure that she had imagined it. "I couldn't kill her… I needed to, but when you care for someone, it don't matter how many wrongs they made, you can't let them go, you can't destroy them. " he let out an exasperated sigh, before passing her, "nevermind, you wouldn't understand."

But she did, and she hated knowing that what he said was the fucking truth.

She almost bumped into Bill, who didn't hide his blood streaked tears as he strode by her. He looked like he was apologetic, that he wanted to say sorry to her, maybe for Sookie or for abandoning her, but she didn't give him the time. She strode passed him and into the room to hug Sookie as she broke and cried. She didn't have time for sorry's.

* * *

It was almost day break before they got back to Gran's house. Alcide had told Sookie that he had business to take care of and would be back in the afternoon, Lafayette had to leave because of a call he had received marking it as 'urgent', and so it was just her and Jason to care for Sookie. She was surprised when he said. "You're gonna stay here Tara, to take care of her, right?" He wasn't staying? She felt herself become angry again, at her once again dependency on the old Jason. What did she think was gonna happen, that he'd stay and they'd stay up all night talking about their childhood and make fucking hot chocolate together?

She felt herself saying, "Of course." as he hugged her and left the empty house.

When she finally made it to the guest room, back to a bed she knew well, she desperately fended off sleep, forced it off until she was powerless to it.

* * *

_This is new_. He'd be driving on a country road and see images of places he hasn't seen, people he hasn't met. They were brief and unpredictably forthcoming. First, Sookie in a hospital bed, an orange and black wrapper labeled '_Reeses Pieces_", then Bill crying. So Bill was alive. He made a mental note to tell Russell that Bill was somewhere between Mississippi and the Louisianan fourth parish. He stopped the car off on the shoulder, reached over and pulled on the glove compartment to pick up a cell phone. He hummed along to the song playing on the radio.

* * *

"_**What I want, you got it So much I'm crazy for your touch, your touch"**_

_**

* * *

**_

Before he had read the text message Lafayette had sent, memorized his number, he looked up another, applying that number as well to his memory. He knew that their relationship was strained, the chances of her being there would be slim, and so he had to put himself on the line. His thumb moved over keys so quickly that the phone froze before allowing a dial tone to go through. He had to remember and review the Cajun accent and replace his natural British one as the call went through. He remembered the names that Tara had told him the night before and applied them to a carefully constructed speech.

"Hello?"

"Hello, ma'am, is dis Tara's mother?"

"Yes… »

« Dis is de Bon Temps police departmen'. We 'ave tried reachin' yo' fo' a while. I don' wanna alarm yo' bu' do yo' know where your daughtah migh' be?"

"Tara?" Panic. "…she must be at Lafayette's. What's happen to her?"

He had to wait, breathe in to allow her to panic, to allow her to think the worst. "Lafayette didn' tell yo'?" He paused again, briefly turning the dial to a station void of lost signal, "He hasn' seen Tara in abou' a week n a 'alf. When was de las' time yo saw 'er?"

He could hear it, a woman in distress, hear her breathing over the cell phone as she tried to fight back speculation and fight back tears. "About a week and a half ago…I'm gonna go call Lafayette."

He needed to stop her. "We've talked to him and he tol' us everting we needed, but Andy wants me and Kenya t' take a squad car out t' yo' house and ask yo' a few questions, can yo' confirm yo' address?"

Applying the home address to his memory, he pressed on the gas pedal as his lips curved into a grin.

* * *

The hot water felt good against her skin, smoothing away all the chaos that was her quote unquote 'weekend getaway'. She breathed in the scent of body wash as it mixed with the steam of the closed bathroom. Sookie was going to be okay, physically anyway. She didn't believe that she and Bill were really in love and that was only cemented when he tried to kill her, but Sookie cried and cried as if she and him were soulmates. She didn't understand it. She kept scrubbing, smoothing away the stress of having to take care of Sookie, having to see Bill who reminded her of that hell in Jackson, and at having to see this new Jason that was becoming a stranger to her. But then...

She felt it. Tingles up her spine as pleasure rippled through her. She gasped as her head instinctively tilted back as a moan escaped her lips. The pleasure she felt seconds earlier, became an inaudible shriek when she looked into the eyes of Franklin, into the man that should have left her alone, should have abandoned her. She breathed in and held her breath as his fangs protracted. He looked at her, devoured her in his gaze and she felt herself wanting to run out the shower, to give herself distance from him, but even as she turned towards her escape, she felt her body being pulled towards him. He grasped the back of her neck, pulling her to him and moaned into the kiss he started that she definitely returned.

She felt herself being pushed against the cold tile of the shower wall, her tailbone pressed hard against the lever that controlled water temperature, as his kisses became frantic, and her hands tried to pull him impossibly closer for more skin to skin contact.

He slipped his hands under her bottom and pulled her up over his thighs to his groin, her long legs falling to either side of his hips, and as he did so, he turned the lever, somehow hotter passed its highest setting to the point that she felt her skin might melt, might burn.

Her body welcomed him, melding rhythms as they arched and plunged and spun out of control. As her hands scraped over his shoulder blades and cupped his ass, urging him on as he thrusted harder, faster, deeper until she felt herself coming undone, she felt herself wakening with a jolt as his voice lingered and drifted: ""**Nightfall, two days**".

* * *

Alcide had just pulled up in his delivery truck and put it in park. He nodded at her, "Tara", but she didn't continue with the formalities by replying with a greeting or begin a conversation that didn't have merit. He was here to see Sookie and she couldn't even look at her at the moment. Perhaps he'd have better luck getting through to her. "Maybe you can flirt some sense into her."

She left Sookie and Alcide to talk. She needed to get back into the rhythm of Bon Temps again. She needed time off from work, but the last thing she needed was time to reflect, or worst, go to sleep and dream of an attraction she didn't need to feel. The idea of night's darkness approaching was scary to her, much more so when she found out that vampires were real and among her years ago. No, she needed to be at Merlottes, where the hours merged into long shifts. She'd probably be able to convince Sam that she wanted to put in overtime for the work she missed.

As she walked into the bar, she felt herself staring at the stool that Franklin sat in and breathed in deeply to calm herself. She smiled at Arlene, who, shocked at her gesture of affinity, asked her, "Darlin', you okay?" and she wanted to scream, "Fuck no, Arlene. You wouldn't believe the shit I went through. Hell, am still going through." But she just put on a sugar sweet smirk that was so unbefitting for her that it almost hurt, "Of course, Arlene. I'm just happy to see you!"

* * *

She couldn't find Sam in the front and wondered if he was going to come in later or if he was in the back, going over paperwork in his office. She noticed Tommy as he loaded dirty dishes that previous patrons left into a black bin, and almost called out to him to ask if Sam was in. She'd find him later and ask if she could stay late, well, later than her normal shift.

She bent below the bar's countertop to open the new shipment of alcoholic beverages and stopped when her hands felt the cool grasp of the Trublood drink's neck. Another image. Him sitting away from her, asking her if she had any of those Trubloods. His eyes boring into hers, alleviating her sadness, feigning to be normal, to care for her and her time of need. She dropped the bottle, watched as the blood moved in tiny waves against the once-cleaned flooring. "Fuck!" she went into the back to grab the mop.

* * *

She shrieked as he went to grasp her hand. What was his smile at surprising her was turned into a grimace. There she was, in front of him, shaking like a leaf in November, not holding the tears. What had happened to her? He felt himself scared at seeing this Tara. Tara was so strong, at least on the outside that her crying like this, trembling like that, was unfathomable. As he pulled her to him, he felt her tears against his skin. He muttered "shhh" into her ear as his hand went to her back to calm her. She wasn't calmed, in fact, she cried harder. _What the hell happened to her?_ Had whatever happened to her been his fault for not looking after her? For not being there when Eggs died? When she had thrown away his attempt at a relationship with her, told him that she wasn't looking for a relationship only to start one with a serial killer, he couldn't bear being there for her when Eggs was killed. But if he had been a friend instead of the spurned lover, he could've told her that everything was going to be okay. Even if Sookie's proposal caught him off guard, even if he had his own shit to deal with; how hard was it to hug her? Was it too late now. "I think you should take some time off, Tara" he whispered into her ear and she moved away from his hold, to look at him, her eyes pleading. "No. Please let me stay, Sam."

He found himself met with silence when he implored for answers. "What the hell happened to you? What's making you so scared?"

* * *

He stood on the porch, his hand poised in mid-air as the door opened and the older woman looked at him. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles and he wasn't sure if it was because of her lifestyle or because she just got done crying. He looked at her "Sunday clothes" before resting on her face as she asked, "Where's Kenya?" she looked passed him to a car that definitely wasn't utilized by the police and tried to slam the door shut before she succumbed to being glamoured.

"Let me in." he held her gaze, speaking to her softly. She nodded as she pulled the door further open and stepped back, giving him space to walk into her home. He felt it as he followed her into the living room, her trying to break from being glamoured, to regain control and It intrigued him. He looked at the house, a few furniture pieces, but no pictures of her, of Tara, of Tara's father. It was bizarre. It reminded him of a doll-house-this was just meant for show. He sat her down on an old velvet coach and sat across from her in a chair.

"Where would Tara be right now?"

"At Sookie's." He arched an eyebrow. Would she really go back to a home that he had been in, had so easily taken her from? He remembered the location.

"Where else?"

"Lafayette's." She kept trying to resist being pulled and forced into giving answers freely. He could feel it by the way he was concentrating more than usual to keep her focus and he could see it by her gaze moving from him to objects in the room back to his person.

"Where does Lafayette live?"

She told him, and he applied the street name to heart, saying it three times so he wouldn't forget it. His questions were answered and he should've left to start the hunt.

"Are you going to kill me?"

He felt his eyes widen in surprise. This was the first time that anyone had been able to talk without being asked a question when glamoured. "No. At least, not right now. When was the last time you drank?"

"A month ago, thank the lord for getting rid of the demons."

He narrowed his eyes, leaning closer towards her to establish a stronger hold, he was giving her too much freedom. "Why do you treat Tara the way you do?"

"She's always been trouble, always gonna be."

He felt his fangs starting to protrude. No, he wasn't going to kill her now, but he would. He shifted his gaze to break the mental contact and left her there as she rocked and said aloud, "Leviticus 20:1 I will set my face against the person who turns to mediums and spiritists to prostitute himself by following them, and I will destroy him. She gone kill you.'

**To Be Continued...**


	7. Today Mourns while Tomorrow Bleeds

**Rating**: T, maybe M for the vulgarity

**Disclaimer**: I don't own True Blood, if I did, I'd try and fling my body in front of Franklin before he exploded.

**A/N**: I'd first like to say a big "Fuck you" and a merry "Thank You" to the writers of True Blood for killing off the best thing to happen to season 3 (besides Russell Edgington), while also giving me complete control over him. I hate and love you guys for that. This chapter has some parts of episode 9 (**Everything is Broken **) and my imagination . Some of you may not like the ending or the chapter as a whole –feel free to yell at me in the reviews- and some of you may love it. The point is, tell me what you think. =)

This is a break of the story and since this fic is somewhat following season 3 of TB, the next 2-3 chapters will use some stuff from those episodes, while making a whole storyline of my own creation that will bleed into the sequel. If you guys have suggestions or rants or praises (whether it's this chapter, future chapters, or the sequel to this story), do share them with me, I won't bite, I promise.

******Oh yeah, since I've been taking more creative licenses, the titles won't be named after episodes- I'll still give you the heads up though in the Author's Notes-**

**Songs** that inspired me and helped me write this chapter (based on character):

**Tara**: **Don't Believe in Love** by Dido, **Let's do the Things We Normally do** by Dido, **Everything to Lose** by Dido (I'm a Dido girl okay!), **Psychotic Girl** by The Black Keys –for funsies-, **Too Afraid to Love You** by The Black Keys.

**Holly**: **Lateralus **by Tool,** I Put a Spell on You-** by Creedence Clearwater Revival (I feel it speaks more of Holly's character). However, the one by Nina Simone is my favorite =)

**Franklin**: **Bound **by Disturbed, **Mistress** by Disturbed, **Devour** by Disturbed –I think Franklin's a Disturbed kind of guy, haha, no pun intended ;)

* * *

**Today Mourns while Tomorrow Bleeds**

Why was she here? Okay, she knew why she was here. She tricked herself into coming here; well, correction, she let herself be tricked by Sam. Was it because he was a familiar man that had become someone like the old Jason? The one she could always count on? He had given her a thousand dollars for an exorcism that she didn't believe in, had given it to her so freely without asking for anything in return, but for her to feel happy. He had given her flowers when she treated him like crap every time she left his bed. He was always there to listen to her scream or rant and, very recently, cry to her heart's content on his shoulder. Sam Merlotte had become a friend…hell, he became her safety cushion. He seemed to always be there to care for anyone with a problem, and she wondered why she refused to go to him after Eggs had died. Was it because she felt guilty for having a relationship –one that was doomed from the start- with another when she said she wasn't looking for one with him? Maybe, if she would've talked to him then, camped out at his trailer, and patched whatever they had before Jackson, Mississippi she could've avoided being in this room.

She sat there amidst six others- mostly women, and a few being men-feeling as uncomfortable as all get out. This Support Group coupled with Post-Traumatic Stress, Inter_-_dependent and-Co dependent relationship survivors should've been more for Terry Bellefleur than herself. The only thing that was a reprieve was their policy towards privacy and to keep everyone who chose it, anonymous.

"Hey, Tara, right? From _Merlotte's_! I'm so glad you're here! Everybody, this is Tara from my new job!" They turned towards her, giving her fake ass smiles as if she was their best friend. She narrowed her eyes. _There goes fucking anonymity_. Holly, the new waitress smiled at her. She didn't know much about Holly, only the small little things based on first meetings: She was sugar sweet, which meant she couldn't be trusted, her eyebrows defied geometrical fashion and arched in 90 degrees to make her look skeptical, ALL the time, and she wore too much makeup as if the sun would melt one layer, she'd still have another for backup. She didn't know if she liked Holly and just tried to find things about her that were ridiculously flawed so that she wouldn't get attached to her and develop a rapport, but she did know that almost all the waitresses at Merlotte's ended up in shit that could kill them and she definitely didn't need to be dragged into danger…again.

She sat by Holly probably because there was some unspoken code to sit by a familiar person or a coworker out of a sea of strangers and listened as one by one told their life story. What was she supposed to say? What did Sam think she was going to say that would make her feel better? They seemed to be staring at her and Holly, wondering who was going to go next. _These people looked like fucking regulars, like they circled this time slot as a mandatory event on their magnetic refrigerator calendars._ _Did they expect her to spill out everything, to run to them for a hug? No fucking way. _

Holly stood up, smiling at everyone like the peppy woman she was. "Hey ya'll…I'm Holly. It's been a while since I spoke, but…" she breathed in, her eyes glancing in her direction maybe for a supportive smile? She shifted her gaze to the floor in reflection as Holly continued.

"I'm a rape survivor…" Her voice didn't shake as Tara thought it should…would.

Tara swallowed. She felt guilty for pushing Holly away, for creating flaws for her that shouldn't/didn't count for much. How in the world was she able to be so perky, so happy, so caring?

"It's easy for me to say now, but it took me ages to be able to put those words together… but it's people like ya'll that have helped me the whole way. Fifteen years ago I was locked in a room and raped by a fellow co-worker for five and a half hours. And every day I face not only my memory of that, but that part of me that wants to feel sorry for herself. He humiliated me and took my strength away and I didn't know how to pick up the pieces afterwards. I thought I was destroying myself reliving that hell….but" and Holly looked down at her, meeting her eyes and understood her hell too. "But speaking about it made me win, not him."

She felt tears stream down her face. No, she wasn't raped in a storage closet for five and a half hours like Holly, she wasn't even raped back in Mississippi, but the deprivation of her power…of her ability to make choices and be in control was stripped from her, leaving her just as vulnerable.

Their eyes were upon her, boring into her as if they could light her afire with those stares. She couldn't find the words to begin…could she stop after the third tying to the bed and feel better or could she tell her spectators that she had a heart-to-heart with her captor, and craved for more?

Luckily, Holly spoke for her. "Tara's new, and as we've all done in the past, I think she deserves some time to gather a voice and feel that this truly is a safe place for her. Next week we should talk about how our loved ones got us through our difficult trials."

She smiled at Holly, a tiny one to tell her thank you. Somehow her diverting the attention of the others made her feel better than her thinking about telling them about that dark time.

* * *

Holly stood there, waving at her as she watched her get into Sam's truck and drive away, probably back to work. She felt it as soon as she stepped foot into Merlotte's and was interviewed by Arlene Fowler. The darkness in Tara was overwhelming and the fact that what she was, was unknown to everyone in the town, to even the telepathic waitress and Tara herself was just fortunate. He had prophesized that there were two beings in this shit hole town and she had found one of them, probably the most powerful out of the four to be assembled.

Finding the keys to her Volkswagon Jetta, she thought about just how happy Ian would be when she told him she had found his new prodigy.

* * *

It was _Day Two,_ and she should've been hiding out in Sam's trailer or maybe she should've been home with her mama after his words were whispered into her ear. She would've loved to believe that it was just some sick fantasy, something that was fantastical and based on some pseudo trauma she experienced, but she knew better. The scenarios that came night after night, of her witnessing horrors like a woman being burned to death as spectators screamed biblical passages of redemption and denouncement, of frantic coupling, of what he had said to her were all too real. He was coming for her, probably going to kill her for her deceit. So why was she here with a towel rag in her hand.

"Another!" someone slammed something against the bar top and she wasn't sure if it was the money under the man's large, jaundiced hand, or if it was the bottom of an empty mug that some other customer had placed down.

"I may be the bartender, but I ain't got to serve you shit, especially if you're gonna be barkin' at me as if I'm your damn slave."

"I pay your salary and if I want to….." She stared at him hard, her hand resting on her right hip, daring him to continue that statement. He swallowed and said. "Please, can I have another?" She looked at him for a few more seconds before turning around to find the almost emptied bottle of Bourbon.

Sam asked her how her meeting was as he drove to _Merlotte's _and she lied to him and told him it was very refreshing to be around similar people with almost similar problems. She was actually surprised that it came so easily, to lie to him without a thought. Part of her feared that she'd do it again in the future.

She noticed him as soon as she turned around with the bottle of Bourbon in her hand. She noticed _her _too. She felt herself going rigid, her shoulders involuntarily square as he slid in next to her in one of the few booths they had, _when so many tables were available_. Her heart clenched as his hand wrapped around the no-name trash's shoulder. She had no idea if she was trash or not, but Jason Stackhouse was addicted to trashy girls or skanky ones, and she had to be one of the two. She looked like a fucking drug addict with her dirty clothes hanging off kilter from her skinny frame and sunken eyes.

She breathed, averting her eyes to the man's glass as she refilled it. The door opened and there was Sam talking to two guys. She couldn't hear them with the ceiling speakers blasting some country tune and drunken men talking to each other about their shitty ass day, but she could read body language enough to sense a fight. Jason was in front of that trashy girl, looking at a man much older than him and threatening him to a fight, while Sam tried -once again- to be a calming force. But the strangest-, she clarified- the _scariest_ thing happened, Sam, the most good-natured, simple man in Bon Temps snapped. He started hitting the man over and over until she felt herself grow uneasy, felt herself remember the back of Merlotte's when she was doing the same thing to that hick only two weeks ago. She should've pushed him off that guy, but seeing Sam break scared her. What could possibly cause him to lash out like that?

Luckily, the nurse that was responsible for her aunt, Ruby Jean's care –_was it Jesus or Jessie?-_ and Lafayette separated them. She shouldn't have stepped close to them, shouldn't have offered to help the man into the SUV so they could rush him to the E.R. Whoever Sam beat the fuck out of, probably deserved it…

* * *

Car doors closed, she felt her breathe catch. She could feel him, feel his presence behind her back as his hand clasped over her mouth to prevent her from shouting at Jason, who ran after the car.

She was against the wooden panels of Merlotte's outer side wall, and felt fear creep inside her. He was going to kill her, he felt betrayed by her leaving, for her denouncing his love.

She felt herself hyperventilating as his right hand held her throat, not squeezing it, but showing her that he easily could.

"Everyone said that you did it and I thought why would anyone spread such vicious lies? Why would you kill someone that you loved?" He leaned in, his nose almost touching her own as she felt his madness through his stare, through his hold.

"But, I don't love you." She breathed as she quaked. How could she love a man she had known for a week and a half, a man who's personality she had only touched the surface of. She had felt attraction to him, felt drawn to him and, liked it, liked him. But ardor? No, she didn't feel that, she couldn't allow herself to feel such for a man that could kill her without a thought, a man that probably would mourn her for a day before finding another troubled soul to enrapture and manipulate.

"That's what they said too." Her bottom lip trembled, why was he taking so fucking long? The suspense and him toying with her was worst than any physical harm he could impose.

"If you're gonna kill me, then kill me!"

"Why do you want to die so much, why do you want me to kill you so badly?" He looked sorrowful, his grasp on her neck loosened to feather weight, only to bear forcefully down.

"Because I'm trouble, and I'm always gonna be." Her eyes instinctively closed as she awaited darkness to take her over. But it didn't. Her heart fluttered and stopped at the same time when she heard it: the click of a gun's safety going off. Her eyes widened with horror at him being there.

"Take your hands off her." She looked passed Franklin, staring at Jason. _Don't be a fucking hero. _

"This is a private conversation and it's none of your concern, run along."

"Move the fuck away."

"You're gonna shoot me now? You do realize that I'm a vampire. You can empty every round in me and I'll heal. "

As he pulled the trigger and as she felt Franklin move in time to avoid being hit, she screamed, "Jason!"

* * *

"This is Jason?" Eyebrow quirked, he looked between the man flailing as his hand tightened slowly around his neck. "This is the man you love?" He looked at his beloved, his betrayer as she began crying.

He could hear the other man gasp and make choking sounds as his larynx began to close, blocking off oxygen that he desperately needed. He stared at Jason, sizing him up. "He smells of another woman, Tara. Is this the type of man you want? A man who'll fuck anything. She smells cheap." His gaze locked onto her own, watched as she stood there, maybe in shock or in contemplation on ways to protect this man that didn't deserve her, that couldn't fit the expectations she needed to have. "Can you smell her, Tara?"

"Do you know how much she loves you…." His focus returned to Jason, lessening his hold around his neck so he wouldn't black out, _not yet_. "What does a man have to do to earn her favor? I have saved her, I will be there to protect her. What makes you so different? You are flawed and unbefitting. "

"Tara, run!" Jason shouted and she stood her ground. He smirked, he wasn't sure if she was suffering from fight versus flight and couldn't do either, or if she thought she could protect Jason with her being a spectator. He should kill this Jason to show her that he was the only man capable of giving her the world or destroying it for her. "Watch this, Tara. Watch how I dispel your imaginary love and the false idolatry you've created for him."

He locked his eyes on Jason's brown irises and felt him succumb to being pulled, glamoured, _manipulated._

_

* * *

_"Do you love her, Jason?" Franklin asked as Jason became silent. She felt herself floored. Her mind reeled her to move and her heart begged her to step forward to protect –or at least try to- the man she loved for as long as she could remember.

"I don't deserve her."

"And why don't you deserve her, Jason?" She felt herself looking at Jason, trying to help him gain control of the situation. She looked at the discarded shot gun, wondering how many rounds it held. She couldn't get to it fast enough though...

"I've lied to her…"

"What have you lied to her about, Jason?" Franklin was toying with her. He had claimed that he had loved her, but what being would love someone to want to inflict such agony upon them, to destroy their semblance of normalcy or happiness?

"I killed Eggs."

She felt herself dropping to her knees, hard enough for the gravel to scrape and tear skin. Her mind blanked, her heart stopped, and she felt coldness creep along her spine, making her fingers instinctively curl into balled fists.

"He was goin' to kill Andy. I saw him with a knife and I shot him… shot him in the back of the head."

She felt herself standing, walking to him, to stand by Franklin and look at him. "Why did you lie to me? Why did you have me believe it was Andy fucking Bellefleur! Why did you come to me and shout that bullshit about me being like a sister to you and always being there for me when you were fucking lying to me the entire time!" she felt angry tears roll down the side of her face.

Franklin broke the connection and looked at her as Jason regained footing of his surroundings. "He has lied to you. The man that you loved treats you like you don't exist. He moves on from women to women, has flaunted them in front of you, and pretended that he cared about you while killing the man you loved, and lied to you every time he saw you. Maybe, the old Jason wasn't the one that protected you, maybe he was a figment of your imagination."

Her mind ran through childhood flashbacks, reviewing precious memories and twisted them, making them dark, making her savior, her knight, dark, dismal, and obscure. This was the second person to have ruined her trust. Both of them being Stackhouses. Sookie didn't tell her about what she had driven Eggs to do, and Jason didn't tell her of him murdering Eggs in cold blood.

Franklin turned to her, his hand grasping the side of her jaw, tilting her head to look at him. " I won't lie to you, Tara. I won't look for others. I will protect you…." She felt herself walking beside him, feeling his hand grasp hers as Jason screamed after her, calling her name before the wind carried his voice away.

"_There's only you, Tara. Only You."_

**To Be Continued.**


	8. The Only Way Out is Closed

**Rating**: T (only M if you really think about the vulgarity)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own True Blood, if I did, I'd have had Tara say, "Eggs…Egg's who?" as soon as Jason told her he killed him. I mean. Come on it's Jason Stackhouse, I'd have been on him like syrup on pancakes.

**A/N**: **Surprise**: I'm using my writing power to revive a character that shouldn't have died that soon.

**Thank you** to all the people that reviewed chapter 7 and for giving me suggestions on where you'd like to see the story go. Although some suggestions went against my story arc for this story's sequel, there were some that helped this chapter immensely. Shout out to: **hipstamom** (for Eric and Pam part), **bibi22** (for Bonnie and Clyde), and **Bulllock** (for the idea of the Aftermath of Russell's speech). To Hipstamom, who wanted Pam and Eric, I'll go for them next chapter. Please Review to tell me if you loved chapter 8 or hated it, or if you found certain characters ooc –out of character. This is the first time I've written Jason's perspective as well as Russell's. Got suggestions for chapter 9? Private Message (PM) me.

**Key Acronyms**: **FOTS** (Fellowship of the Sun), **VRA **(Vampire Rights Amendment), **AVL** (American Vampire League)

**Sidenote**: I encourage Jason fans who are reading this chapter to tell me what they thought. I'm a huge shipper of Tara/Jason (and Jason fan)–ever since season 1 – so hopefully it meshed well with the story. Tara/Sam shippers let me know if Sam's dialogue was fine. For some reason, he's really hard for me to write.

**Songs that helped me write this chapter –with no particular character in mind- **: from Breaking Benjamin's Phobia Album**. Breath**, **You,** **Diary of Jane**, **Until the End**, **Scared **&** I will Let you Down **by Three Days Grace, **Whatever **by Godsmack (I think it'd be Andy's theme song haha), **Immune** by Godsmack

Beta: **BooksCatsEtc.** She's fantastic and is responsible for this chapter being what it is.

* * *

**The Only Way Out is Closed**

Retching into a bush, he felt his palms fall flat upon his knees as he tried to calm the dizziness. Sick, confused, and then infuriated, he exhaled and inhaled a large gulp of air before finding the discarded shot gun. He could still see the look she gave him, shocked, grief stricken, horrified, and then, the most silencing, resolved. He had failed her. After trying to protect her for most of her life, he had let her go off with that _thing_. He unlocked the chamber and gazed inside. Three wooden bullets. He needed more, but what convenience store would sell wooden bullets? Storming through _Merlotte's,_ he at first ignored the mass of people huddled at the bar top, craning their necks to see the overhanging television. He glanced around the room. Andy Bellefleur was sipping on something akin to Pepsi or Cola, possibly the diet version; that redheaded vamp waitress was talking to Hoyt Fortenberry at a corner booth; Tommy was clearing dishes from the tables while hovering over Hoyt; and Sam and Arlene were arguing about something before Sam excused himself and started storming over to him.

"What the fuck are you doing in here with that, Jason? "he pointed to the firearm. "This is my establishment. No guns, I don't care if you're a cop or not, and I as hell don't care that you think you're on some mission to combat vampires after that news clip."

_What the fuck was Merlotte talking about?_ He pursed his lips together and tilted his head to the side trying to understand what the man was saying. He needed to focus. "Where's Lafayette?"

"Didn't you hear me, Jason? No. Guns. **ALLOWED**"

"Do you have Lafayette's cell phone, it's an emergency," he said, hoisting the strap of the shot gun around his shoulder. The action felt familiar, reminded him of a time when he was at the FOTS camp. It felt like he was doing something right and amending the wrong he had committed weeks earlier.

"What?" Sam stood there, eyes narrowed and quizzical, which alerted Arlene to turn down the volume of the television as the news anchor said the headline: New oil spill off the coast of-

"What do you need his number for, Jason?" Arlene asked, hands on hips.

"Tara's gone missing." He couldn't let the fear creep into his voice as the employees and Andy looked at him.

"Jason, hun. We saw Tara about an hour ago. She ain't missin'. She's off work." She bit her lower lip as if her action could show him that he was crazy, that they all thought he was off his fucking rocker.

"No, she ain't. Sam. I need Lafayette's number. And, it'd be great if you know where Sook is. Tara went off with a vamp and I need to find her and I need to kill him-and!"

Arlene's interrupting laughter grated his ears making him stop cold and glare at her. "Tara? Jason. She hates vampires. Her being off with vampires is like me votin' for the VRA amendment."

Sam walked closer to him, condescending and patronizing him by putting a hand on his shoulder. He shook it off. "Jason, it's okay. You had too much to drink. I'll give you a ride back to your home once we close in a few -"

"I ain't fuckin' drunk" He hit one hand against the other, fist into palm, before retelling what happened. "I was goin' after Crystal to tell her not to give a fuck about her father…" his eyes locked onto Sam's, " y'ano the one you almost killed. And after Lafayette and that nurse took off that's when I saw him. He was choking Tara and he was goin' to kill her. I tried to shoot him but he was too fast. He got me and he glamoured me and then Tara walked away with him and then I blacked out."

"Why would Tara just knowingly walk with a vampire? You know she don't trust them," Sam countered, arms crossed over his chest.

"I told her I killed Eggs."

Now all of the patrons, whether in booths, chairs, or lying in an intoxicated heap on the floor turned their gaze upon him. Andy's face flushed red and he wasn't sure if it was from rage or from the embarrassment of not being the one truly behind one of the biggest cases Bon Temps had ever seen. Even Tommy and that new waitress looked interested and they didn't even know who the fuck Eggs was.

"You what?" Sam looked at him and then at Andy. He tilted his head slightly, trying to connect it. "But Andy shot Eggs. That's what he said and—"

"Listen. I did it okay. He was goin' after Andy with a knife and I had to save him."

"So you shot him in the back of the head at point blank range to protect Andy Bellefleur, a trained cop?" Holly asked, without a smirk nor a grimace in her expression.

_How did she…..?_ _That wasn't the point. _

"He glamoured me and he fucked with my brain and probably with Tara's. That fucking British son of a bitch has her—"

Just then, he felt it, heard it. Felt the air against the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck as she sped to him and made a noise almost akin to a whimper in the back of her throat.

"Did you say British?"

"Yeah! And –"

Tommy looked at her. Eyes widening in some adrenaline-filled eagerness. "Jessica, do you know who it is?"

"Yeah... I mean no..." she looked to the floor as Sam got closer and Hoyt started hastily walking from the other side of the room. "He came to my"—she corrected "Bill's house and he was crazy. I mean, he had this severed head… you know that body ya'll found up in Merrow's Creek?" she turned her blue eyes towards Hoyt, who nodded. "Well, he wanted to know all the names of the people who knew Sookie and asked about Bill and-"

Now, everyone was listening. They'd thought Jason was joking, thought he was making a humorous, if pathetic attempt at getting attention. Their attentiveness had grew from curiosity, and finally to stricken silence. Someone turned off the television from its low volume state as Jessica tried to continue.

"Jessica, why would he bring you the head of the John Doe we found—"Andy asked, his glass now abandoned, half full and flat.

She looked at Andy, paused, and continued. "I don't know, he was talking about how some vampires were planning to kill off humans or make them into an actual food source," she gazed at the darkened television just as Arlene muttered an "_Oh God_" and continued, "before Russell Edgington even made that news report, and that he was asking vampires _and_ humans if they knew who the human man was. He asked me a few questions and then he left. I thought he you know, was just some vampire policeman or some detective, but he left right after I mentioned Tara…" Her hands went to cover her mouth as she started shaking. "He's crazy…I, I didn't mean to get her kidnapped-" Hoyt pushed passed Tommy to gather her in a hug.

"Well, you heard her. Sam, I need Lafayette's number so we can go looking for her. Andy," his gaze locked onto the detective, "do you think we can use tracking devices on her to find her?"

"Jason, we aren't the fucking F.B.I, we are the Bon Temps police department. This town ain't got more than 2,000 people for a damn population; the only trackin' device we have is damn G.P.S. And," he turned his eyes from the half drunken glass to Jason's brown eyes, "you gotta put a tracking device on the people you're trying to track first, for fuck's sake!"

"Oh..." his right hand cupped the back of his neck, rubbing it earnestly. _Now what?_

"I'm coming with you," Jessica leaned out of Hoyt's embrace, " I can track him down probably faster than any of ya'll can." He distinctly heard Arlene saying, "_and probably join the other vampires and kill us humans in our sleep_," by the kitchen's entryway before he could ask her how. Someone else joined the fray and interjected.

"I'll help yah, Jason. I know a vulnerable person when I see one and I can put myself in Tara's mindset and use the tactics from my war days to find her," Terry said, hands unwinding the apron's tie fastened around his abdomen.

"Wherever Jessica's goin, I'm going too." Hoyt intervened.

"I have a feeling where she might be. But really ya'll, I don't think she's in danger, she'll be back in," the new waitress looked up, guessing when Tara might return, "one or two days. I really don't think he'll hurt her…" once met with silence she continued, "I can join you guys in your search too."

Sam's arms shot out to stop them from adding to the list. "First off, " he looked at Holly, "No, you've only been here for like two days. Secondly," his eyes moved to the rest of his staff, "this ain't a damn witch hunt. I might've been lax before on ya'll just takin' time off but I can't afford to have two waitresses and a fill-in cook leave. I'll go with Jason and we'll find Tara."

"Sweet, I'll come with you bro."

"No, Tommy you need to stay here."

Jason watched as both men looked at each other, the youngest glaring up at Sam, while Sam stood his ground, then nodded slightly to make sure Tommy understood he wasn't going.

"No offense Sam, but I don't think you'll be much help. I gotta go get Lafayette and unless you can sniff her out, you'll just be dragging us down."

Sam looked at him only to smile. "I'm sure I'll be an asset."

He pushed open the door just as Arlene said, "The world's going to hell in a hand basket….Jason , you killin Eggs is that how you got that job as a cop?"

He and Sam heard the shutter door close and left Andy to answer that very awkward question.

* * *

The road he was currently driving on curved into narrow cobblestone streets and darkened alleys. The one and a half hour drive from Bon Temps to this city was shockingly quiet when it should've been vibrant. Even after Hurricane Katrina destroyed most of New Orleans years ago and the carnage could still be seen today with depleted and trashed swamps and positioned death toll placards in random places, the city itself always attracted people-whether native Louisianans or foreigners- everyday out of the 365 day year. He wanted to show her that she could release whatever she was feeling here, this place had no boundaries, had no rules, had no social constructs. So to see no oncoming cars ahead or those trailing behind him in his rearview mirror made him uneasy.

The French Quarter, usually a bustle of vivacity, should've been a hot spot, -but he couldn't see drunken people pushing orderly conduct laws to their maximum nor stores with lights on, only little 'We're closed' signs facing windows- most of them busted.

He looked at his silent passenger. He didn't start a conversation because he knew she wouldn't talk, didn't want to. He focused his attention on the radio dial of FM stations and his surroundings, and smiled to himself when she told him to keep that channel, saying that she liked that song. He made a mental note of the station as he parked alongside a curb. He looked at the clock. _2:00 am_, and then listened to the noises outside. Somewhere off in the distance, in the midst of alleyways that lead to little covens, and through the walkways, he could hear honking, car alarms going off, and the static of televisions in little shops. He needed to explore, but something, something nagged at him not to take her, but he couldn't leave her here.

"Are you hungry?" He turned to her, her eyes were transfixed on her fingers as they scrunched the bottom of her shirt even more. The humidity combined with the summer heat had caused her purple tank top to cling closer to her body, marking a further color difference, but a nice contrast against her skin. He felt his pants tighten as he felt himself growing hard. He swallowed. He could show her that he loved her, that he was worthy of her, preferably in the backseat of his car, but he needed to restrain himself Restraining his urges was…_difficult._ "I promise you it won't be daylilies." He tried to placate her, giving her a grin, eyes mirthlessly holding a glint before dying as she said no. He felt his stomach constrict as his eyes glanced at the place between her neck and shoulder, seeing an active vein minutely thump to pump blood. He breathed, his teeth grinding slightly to force the fangs from protruding. His right hand grasped his cell phone as it vibrated. He looked at the caller i.d and muttered "_shit" …_ under his breath before he answered.

"Yes. "

"Have you disposed of her yet?" He looked at Tara and she looked at him, she could hear Russell on the other end of the line.

"Yes." His eyes locked onto hers as her right hand rested on the door handle, but not pulling it…_yet _

"Good. I want verification. Your phone should have a camera on it. Take a picture."

"What? Sir. " his eyes looked at the signal –full- he wouldn't be able to blame a loss of signal this time either. "I'm occupied."

"Franklin, take a breath, and then take the picture. Have you found Sookie yet?"

He looked at Tara, watched as her shoulders tensed impossibly more as she narrowed her eyes at him, pursing her lips together.

"I'm working on it. I'll try and send the picture, Sir. You know me, I'm so old-fashioned, technology these days….it's usually over my head." He felt himself rambling, he needed to be succinct." It's quite morbid, and bloody, I don't think you'll want to see it, Russell"

"I've seen you at your worst, Franklin. Besides, if you watched the news report, you'd know that I'm anything but….squeamish. I'll see you soon." The connection was closed.

"I'm not going to tell you where Sookie is."

He turned to her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She didn't know where Sookie was, but she could find out, and he could be done with Russell for a while. "Why would you want to protect someone who's lied to you?"

She set her jaw, replying, "Sometimes….people lie to protect you and sometimes honesty is a whole lot worse than lyin, but that doesn't mean you should forsake them and turn your fucking back on them."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you talking about Sookie or Jason?"

His hand protectively shot out across her chest holding her in the passenger seat before she could jump in alarm as he heard it, smelled it, and realized what was coming. On the windshield, splattered across the glass were blackened, twisted, tangled intestines and putrid blood marring the glass surface, _The remains of a vampire._

He felt her tremble as he tried to look through a clear spot of the windshield, up to a balcony that someone must've thrown the remnants off of. A knock on her side of the door, and he gazed at the man as his fangs grazed against his tongue, drawing droplets of his own blood.

"Merde! Wat de hell are ya'll doin' 'ere wit' de country in a crisis! Vampires are lurkin' around, waiting f'r unsuspectin' people like ya'll t' kill or make into a human blood fact'ry. We already found one vamp lurkin' in de 9th district an' gottem good," the man laughed looking at the splayed guts that slid from windshield to hood, only to interweave within the windshield wipers base. "If vampires wan't' suck on somethin'" he pulled out a mediocre stake, "dey can suck on dis."

He felt himself drawing blood from his lower lip, showing just the smallest view of points from fangs. Her hand reached out and grabbed his arm, probably to pacify him. He felt them retract, but his blood was boiling.

He replaced his british alto with a mid-west twang. "Well, thanks for the heads up. We'll be sure to look out for any vampires around."

As the man stumbled to find others for a riot, and as he saw the faint glow of fire off in the distance, his hand turned the button for the radio tuner to National Public Radio. _What crisis?_

Her hand was still on his wrist, and he looked at her nimble fingers curling around the side. She didn't move it and he didn't want to tell her he was fine so she would.

_There have been a total of 40 confirmed deaths and over 150 attacks so far within the last two hours since Russell Edgington killed News Anchorman, David Witterfry and terrorized Mississippi's KQWA's media station. We have transcribed his speech to play for radio listeners. Should we have let the Japanese release Trublood for vampires? Has our allowance and tolerance of vampires in their "Coming out of the Coffin" period caused us to see them as people like us instead of monsters? Is Russell Edgington just a madman and you personally know a vampire that deserves equal rights? Call 938-3938 to voice your opinion before we get __**Fellowship of the Sun**__ president, Steve Newlin to talk about the issue and answer your questions. _

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Russell Edgington and I have been a vampire for nearly 3,000 years. Now the American Vampire League would like to perpetuate the notion that we are just like YOU. and, I suppose in a few small ways we are_."

He breathed, his mind reeling. Russell Edgington loved power, but to go on television to announce his name, his age was asinine. What was his hidden agenda? He listened, not bothering to see Tara's reaction as Russell's tone changed,

" _We're narcissists. We care about getting what we want, no matter what the cost, just like you. Global warming, perpetual war, toxic waste, child labor, torture, genocide, that's a small price to pay for your SUV's, your flat screen TV's, your blood diamonds, your designer jeans, your absurd, garish mansions...they are futile symbols of permanence to quell your quivering spineless souls. But no, in the end, we are nothing like you,"_

What could've happened to make Russell snap. _What had happened to Talbot? _He moved his arm away from Tara's grasp. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes. He loathed Talbot, thought he was unbefitting for the favors and power Russell gave him, but he knew that tied with Talbot's pseudo vampirism and presence was Russell's sanity and control.

"_We are immortal because we drink the true blood, blood that is living, organic, and human. And that is the truth the AVL wishes to conceal from you, because let's face it, eating people is a tough sale these days so they put on their friendly faces to pass on their beloved VRA, but make no mistake, mine is the true face of vampires. Why, would we seek equal rights? You are not our equals. We will eat you after we eat your children_. _Now time for the weather, Tiffany?"_

Talbot must've been killed. But how? He was 700 years old and far from helpless. No one in North America was older than Russell Edgington, or stupid enough to go after his lover. He turned off the radio as the producer said, _There you have it ladies and gentlemen. The phone line has been ringing nonstop. Let's go to our first caller. Joe-_

He felt a headache press against his skull, felt his spine ache from the uncomfortable position that he created to crane his neck to the side in order to listen to the announcement. He needed to feed.

"I'll be back." His right hand grabbed the keys from the ignition as his left opened the side door. She leaned towards him, glowering.

"Are you fuckin' stupid? Your employer, a 3,000 year old vamp has got the whole country shitting their pants about vampires drinkin' off of actual human beings, and you want to go feed off of one?"

"I won't kill them." He got out of the car only to see her get out on her side. She was determined.

"That's not the fucking point. The point is is that there's probably some fucking rally right about now talkin' about goin' after vampires and you're making yourself a target."

He grinned at her, forearms resting on the car's top. "So you do care for me."

She scoffed. "Whatever. If you get staked, it's your fucking fault."

He laughed as he walked down the alley, sure that that man who knocked on his car window was around somewhere. He supposed he shouldn't have told Tara that he wouldn't kill anyone, because that wasn't exactly true. _Wasn't honesty supposed to be healthy for human relationships?_ He thought about that as he plunged deeper into the inner French Quarter.

* * *

She slumped against a wall of an abandoned building, her right foot kicking broken cobblestone pieces into the clogged gutter. 10 minutes. _How fucking long did it take to drink blood? Was he fucking savoring It or what._ "Shit." She rubbed a hand over her eyes. _Why was she attracting dark things into her life, why was she attracted to them? _

Her hand instinctively ran against her neck, feeling skin being cinched and burned as her knees buckled. She looked at her palm_, no blood, no fallen off skin. _Recognition that was her own and dread that were hers and his filled her and she began running, running through alleyways, not knowing where the fuck she was going, but having_ a "gut feeling" _that led her like a map to him.

Five men stood over his slumped body as a silver chain was wrapped around his neck. Two drunk hicks she could've taken, but attacking five men with a mob mentality effect probably wasn't the best idea.

She felt her eyes water, her heart rate increase. "Help me, please!" she ran towards the man holding the silver chain in place. "I just saw a vampire feeding off my sister. Please. She's just a few blocks north, by the fountain. I can't face that creature alone."

The guy who had come up to the car had looked at her, trying to connect dots. She turned her attention away from him, her braids covering half her face.

"We gotta stake this one first." The guy handed the one with the silver chain a flimsy stake and she grabbed it before it was completely passed to the other. "I'll do it. I knew these piece of shit vamps were going to kill us off one day. But please," her doe-like eyes turned to the man. "go and help my sister."

Four of them ran down the corridor, opposite of where she had come from as she looked at the man goading her to stake him already. She removed the silver chain from around his neck, watching as the brand healed quickly. The man yelled "Wat de fuck yo' doin'" as he was slammed against a brick wall and Franklin's fangs sank into his artery.

She needed to tell him to stop, he was drinking too much too soon, and the man's eyes were losing their focus, were glossing over. But she didn't. Her tongue felt knotted and foreign as she watched the man slump against the brick wall, blood soaking into the collar, staining his own skin as his eyes were transfixed, staring at his assailant in horror.

Her lips grimaced, and then lifted into a smile. She breathed. _What was that? _Her mind reeled, paused, and spun as Franklin's lips met her own, as his tongue ran along hers with a taste of the other man's blood, his _essence. _She blanked as soon _as_ his right hand palmed one of her breasts to move to her collarbone and slide off one strap of her tank top and then the other.

* * *

Feet propped on his desk, he smoked a cigar and looked by his side at the red coating of paint. His throat tightened as he swallowed the sorrow rising from his heart.

"Talbot…." He brought the urn to his face, his nose pressed slightly against its curvature. He placed it back into the satchel as the door opened.

"You wanted to see me, Sir." The man stood awkwardly by the door, his eyes looking from the right corner of the ceiling, to one of the legs of the mahogany desk, back to Russell, before resting on a pen placed on the desk top. He had the attention span and mannerisms of a dog.

"What are your feelings towards Franklin?"

"He looked at him. Not speaking at first. "Truthfully, sir?"

"Why, of course. You know I always value honesty."

"I hate 'im." He confessed, looking weary and expecting to be scolded. _Punished_.

"Good. " Russell smiled.

"Good?" his voice faltered.

"Yes, I have a feeling that he's lyin' to me and defying the orders I gave him. This mansion will be seized in less than an hour by god knows who and we need to relocate. However, I want you to do something for me. Can you acquire Franklin's human?"

He smiled. "You mean cupcake?"

He wrinkled his nose. _Werewolves and their stupidity. _He nodded.

"Sure. That's it?"

Coot smiled, relieved, and preceded towards the doorway. As he pulled the doorknob, Russell stopped him.

"Oh and Cooter, do be careful with her. She seems quite delicate and I'd hate for her to be damaged before my plans are underway."

Alone again, he pulled out Talbot's urn and placed it beside the placed pen as he distinctly heard:

"Debbie, get your ass outside. We're goin' on a fuckin'adventure!

**To Be Continued**

**A/N: I had Jessica lie because really, If I was a vampire and there was a live broadcast of vampires wanting to kill humans and/or feed off of them, the last thing I'd want is tell the authorities is that I got hungry and killed a human**

**Besides Jason, I really love Tommy (I'd actually prefer it if Jessica chose him instead of Hoyt), but no character will be spared from my abuse, haha. **


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